


By Fire, By Ice

by queenoftheiceandsnow



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Multiple Pov, Post-frozen, Redemption, Romance, Slow Burn, Wow so much angst, everybody's sad and really hot, fire!hans, mentions of abuse, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:40:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenoftheiceandsnow/pseuds/queenoftheiceandsnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nearly a year has passed since Elsa's powers were revealed, and life's going pretty well for her. But the happy world she's come to know is suddenly shaken, when a letter arrives from the King of the Southern Isles. Hans, apparently, has fire powers, and he's lost control of them, leading to a drought and the possibility of famine. The Princes have begged Elsa to come and help their brother learn to control his abilities and bring an end to the suffering of the Southern Isles. And Elsa's got little choice but to agree.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anders didn't appreciate being summoned home. He never had. He took to the ocean partly to be as far from his brothers as was humanly possible, to escape their constant bickering and arguing and attempts to get back at each other for things that had happened when they were children. Being ordered home, it was just insulting, a slap in the face from hundreds of miles away, for there was no refusing a king's summons, especially not when that king was your eldest brother, and to snatch his hard won freedom so easily was just what big brother Friedrich loved to do.

He did, however, have less of complaint when he learned the reason for the summons. It put so much disappointment and anger in his heart that he returned home sooner than he would have under any other circumstance.

Stepping into the shadow of the grand, imposing palace he'd been raised in felt almost the same way it felt to walk through a graveyard on a bleak autumn morning. It felt like fog clinging to his clothes, like there should be a crow cawing somewhere in the distance, and the shiver that ran down his spine and tingled in his fingers was in no way related to anything but the deepest feeling of dread. He supposed that was as cheerful a welcome home as he could possibly expect. With that unpleasant sensation crawling up his back, he crossed the stone pathways through the elaborate hedges and neatly trimmed grasses of his oldest brother's inherited gardens. The looming trees that lined the walkways, which was easily wide enough to comfortably let a carriage through, were tall and strong, and their branches seemed to connect and twine together, covered with luscious, glossy green leaves. Any other day, any other time, it might have been lovely to pass under that living roof, but not today.

He glanced, just briefly, just for a moment, at the massive gates, the towering doors that required so much effort to haul open that it almost wasn't worth it, and he pointedly averted his gaze from them, turning his stormy blue eyes instead to the smaller, less conspicuous door in the West corner of the gardens. It was a little one. Wooden and slightly peeling and burnt, definitely not very nice to look at, but it probed a certain kind of curiosity. A kind of desire to just know what secrets lay behind it. Surely there were some, at least. He had always had a habit of wandering to it when he was a young boy. Now thirty-five, those days were far, far behind him.

As he approached it with a swish of his heavy woollen travelling cloak (a terrible choice in the stifling heat, he'd discovered half a second after setting foot on land), his hand paused, hesitated just a moment, before lifting to the weathered iron handle. He gave the creaky old door a firm push, and it swung open for him. Immediately, the moment he was inside the slightly narrow stairwell, the air was cold and damp, which was quite the achievement, and he lifted a hand to the stone wall, feeling his way as he squinted into the darkness. He remembered falling down these stairs when he was a boy. He'd disobeyed his father and gone to explore the strange little door, and he'd fallen down the stairs as a result and broken his collarbone in three places. He remembered there being torches, when he was young. Now there were none lining the stairway, and Anders always hated the dark. He didn't fear it. He'd never feared it. He just _hated_ it, he hated not knowing when something was coming, when he could be taken at a disadvantage or be unaware someone was with him in the blackness. He hated that feeling with everything he had.

When he reached the bottom, there was a splash, and he almost smiled. A puddle. He suited the water more than land, and it was a strange little comfort to find it now, right underfoot, at the bottom of the darkest stairwell he had ever encountered in his life.

It was lighter, now, in the depths of the cold stone dungeons, there were windows and lanterns, and he was thankful for it. He stood almost too tall for the corridors as he walked down them, shoulders strong and broad, back straight, the posture of a prince, and a military man. He should have liked to lose that, for once, to just allow the weight to settle and to hunch, just a bit, but he had never hunched. Never in his life. He wasn't going to start, now.

The heels of his boots clicked and echoed through the dungeon, and he heard nothing but his own footsteps and the drip of water finding its way down cracks and into puddles like the one he'd found himself in half a hallway ago. What on Earth was water doing in the dungeons? Shaking off the question and its possible answers, he raised his eyes to find a guard approaching him, a burn, shiny and new, plain as day on his cheekbone, even in the poor light, and his fears were confirmed. He set his jaw, gave the poor sod a slightly apologetic look, and brushed past him, turning the corner to find himself in yet another hallway. At the end, there was door, and three more guards with several empty pails.

Well. He had been right about the source of the water.

The guards, two of them nursing similar injuries to the previous one, stood to attention the moment they saw the long absent fifth prince, and they hesitantly moved away from the door. Their eyes were trained on him, and he didn't particularly appreciate the way they looked afraid. He commanded respect, not fear. What had his brothers done to cause this reaction to royalty?

"Is he in there?" he asked. He didn't feel the need for formalities, here.

"Yes, lord prince, but, if you don't mind my saying, I don't recommend going in," piped up the apparent youngest of the trio, fresh faced and sporting an angry burn across his exposed forearm. "He's not happy to be seeing anyone, today."

Lord prince. There was title he hadn't heard in a while.

"I'll be seeing him." He said firmly, coming to a halt before the three of them. They gave each other uncertain looks, and then their eyes dropped to their feat. "You're dismissed. Tend to your injuries."

They seemed eager enough to accept that.

After one presented him with a key to the - surprisingly unscathed - wooden door, they departed. Anders was left standing before the door, the key heavy in the fist that hung limply at his side. He wasn't certain what he was even doing. He was angry with him. He was furious. He had tried so hard to keep him on the straight and narrow, to keep him from following their older brother's footsteps, but that had fallen through quite magnificently, it seemed. His fingers curled more tightly around the key, and he set his jaw. Someone had to scold him, to bring him to see just how far he'd gone from the wide-eyed boy he'd once known. And, as always, it was going to have to be him. Steeling himself, he slid the key into the lock, and turned it with a surprising amount of resistance. Almost immediately, there was a sound of protest from the other side.

"I told you I want to be left _alone_." Barked his brother's voice. He sounded like he'd breathed nothing but smoke for weeks. Perhaps he had.

"I'm not in the habit of taking orders from you." He replied in the calmest of tones as he pushed open the heavy door, and halted halfway through it.

Ash coated the room like dust, and the prison cell smelled heavily of smoke. It settled in his throat, and he fought the urge to cough, to wave a hand before his mouth to perhaps find some clean air. Absolutely everything that was flammable was burnt, charred, or still smouldering. The fine bed in the corner had been patched and darned, and the posts were burnt, as was the bookcase on the far left wall, though the books were safe behind glass that was as cracked as the barred window. The door, he realized, was not wooden on this side, but a dark stone, and the floor underfoot was scorched and blackened as he stood there, taking in the room with a feeling of horror welling up inside his chest, and his eyes settled finally on the middle of the cell, where the youngest prince was kneeling, shackled and chained, shock and fear plain in his eyes as he beheld his brother. His mouth was open, lips parted like he was about to stammer an explanation, but as resignation fell over his face, and his green eyes lowered to the blackened stone beneath him, Anders knew none would come.

He could no longer see his face as the thirteenth prince hunched over further, it was so hidden by shaggy, unkempt auburn hair. He was reminded of when he was a little boy, and he'd come running into the palace, soaking wet and missing a shoe, with his hair plastered to his face with mud and rainwater. Looking at him, at the boy he'd tried to keep from this very fate knelt before him, wearing manacles and looking like he'd been spat out by hell itself, he couldn't feel the anger anymore. He could feel the disappointment more than ever before, but the anger had simply burnt itself away.

"Hans." He sighed, and as he took his hand finally from the door, he felt himself lose whatever hope he'd had left for the boy. "Oh, you've fallen a long way, little brother."

 

**. . .**

 

The drawing room absolutely never changed.

It was massive. Big enough to fit the four couches and seven comfortable armchairs, and still have space for desks and tables and statues. Paintings of previous rulers, kings and queens of the Southern Isles, were hung all around in gilded golden frames, and no matter where he stood in the room, Anders always felt as though he was being watched by them.

Disturbingly life-like paintings aside, the room was beautifully decorated. The chair covers and couch cushions were the finest embroidered silk in varying shades of grey and ivory, and the large windows were draped with thick velvet the colour of the dark forests in the distance, sometimes bound and drawn back with thick gold ropes. Maps and trinkets and medals and awards were everywhere, on every flat surface there was to be covered, and so much paperwork was piled upon the desk it was a bit frightening to behold. Books, great big books that were likely very boring and very long that he had no desire to read, covered the walls in humongous wooden bookcases. He had never thought to wonder what kind of wood it was, exactly. It looked very dark and very glossy, and very, very expensive, but he didn't expect anything less. There likely wasn't a single bit of wood in there that hadn't been horrendously expensive and travelled halfway around the world to be put in the drawing room of the grand King Friedrich.

But it was a very beautiful drawing room.

It was only unfortunate that when he set foot in it, today, it was full to bursting with the many princes of the Southern Isles.

And every one of them looked up the moment he arrived.

Silence fell very heavily, and he couldn't force a smile onto his face. He wasn't happy to see them. Well, not most of them, anyway. He could do without family reunions, thank you very much. He remained in the doorway, eyes flickering around the room, settling finally on his oldest brother. He didn't look pleased. He looked smug. And rather tired. He was going grey.

"Anders. How good of you to join us," Friedrich said, and his voice was soaked with false affection and cheer. "Come in. We have things to discuss."

Anders, gritting his teeth and praying to whatever god that might be listening for the strength not to leave, did as he was bid and shut the doors, walking onto the thick carpet with the same amount of gravity as a man in a funeral home. His brothers were still watching him, and he tried to ignore it. Peder, mixing himself a drink, was the first to drop his eyes, and he smiled one of his smiles that made him feel unpleasantly like he was being judged or teased.

"Hello, little brother," he said, lifting the glass and taking an experimental sip of whatever it was he was drinking. He made an approving sort of sound, and proceeded to plop himself down on a chair in the corner, conveniently by the window. His green eyes flickered to him, once more, and he didn't like it. "Been keeping well, have we?"

"I have been perfectly fine," he replied stiffly, lingering behind one of the couches and letting himself rest a hand there, fingers pressing tight on the plush backing. "And yourself?"

"Oh, you know," he said with an idle wave of his hand, glancing out of the window to glance at a young woman was tending the gardens, where, unbeknownst to her, the strap of her dress was sliding down her shoulder. "Keeping busy."

Two years his senior, Peder certainly didn't conduct himself with princely grace of any sort.

Leaving him to leer at the gardener, Anders returned his attention to the king, who was barely listening, going by the way he was pouring over some document or paper on his desk. He wrote so quickly and angrily. It was a miracle anyone was able to read his script with the way he flicked his quill. He made a count of who was there. Not all of them. He cleared his throat, and the chatter that had begun to rise settled down again to silence.

"We're missing a few. Where are Tyrell and the youngest?" he asked, trying not to focus on how uncomfortable it was to address anyone in the room. Being with his family should not feel this awkward or strange.

"Tyrell is attempting to calm things in the little village near his home. You remember the one, don't you? They had the most delicious shortcake," said Nicholas with a wistful sound in his voice. He was quiet for a moment, before giving his head a small shake and returning his thoughts to the current events. "He and his wife are expected to arrive as soon as they can."

"The youngest are coming, as well, I believe," reported Stephan, who was currently leaning against the wall with a hand in his pocket and a cigar between his teeth, turning a gold coin over and over again in the palm of his hand. "Last I heard, they weren't far from the palace and sent word ahead."

"And we all know where our dearest baby brother is," added Peder, having torn his attention from the gardener at last. He swirled his drink in the glass, shifting to drape one of his legs over the arm of his chair. "Rotting in prison and burning it to ash."

Every man in the room seemed to give him the same withering look. He had always been indelicate, but that was pushing it a bit far, even for their family. He glanced up to find his brothers scowling at him, and rolled those sharp eyes skyward, swallowing another mouthful of his drink and looking like he'd had his feathers ruffled.

"That _is_ why we're all here isn't it? To talk about that? Forgive me, but I highly doubt big brother called us all together to have a nice little chat about anything else."  
A sound of agreement floated through the air, and Anders could just feel the arguments brewing, already. He glanced up to Ryker, who looked impatient as ever, leaning back on one of the couches and drumming his calloused fingers on his knee, chewing on his lip. He looked like he was either thinking about what to say, or plotting how best to exit the room without causing much of a fuss. Both were as likely as each other.

"Yes," Friedrich said, finally, cool voice breaking the tense silence. "Yes, that is why we're all here. Anders, of course, already knew this. Forgive me for informing you so bluntly, brother, but I didn't imagine much else would bring you home."

"You're not wrong," he replied, and he noticed that his fingers had curled into a fist on the back of the couch at some point. He flexed them, and opened his mouth to speak when the doors behind him burst open with a rush of air that felt positively chilled.

"Sorry I'm late, dear brothers mine. I'm afraid my darling wife is somewhat ill."

Wrinkling his nose slightly at the honey sweet voice, Anders turned and appraised one of the youngest princes. Tenth in line for the throne, Ingo took his princely duties even less seriously than most of them already did, but he certainly looked the part as he swished into the room, accompanied by the twins, Skyler and Soren, eleventh and twelfth in line, respectively. At twenty-four, they both still acted like teenagers as they tripped in after their brother. Ingo shrugged out of his coat and hung it over the back of one of the chairs before sinking into it and gracefully crossed his legs. He settled there comfortably, and his eyes flickered around the room.

"Why Anders! Fancy seeing you on land! It's been years since I saw you last," he exclaimed brightly, looking up to his older brother with a cherubic smile on his young face. "The ocean air is treating you well, I see."

"Well enough, thank you, Ingo." He said, somewhat dryly, trying very hard not to appear as displeased as he felt.

"Enough with the pleasantries. It's time we addressed the problem." Came Ryker's rough growl of a voice, and the wild-haired prince looked like he was all but considering leaping out of the window if he didn't get to leave the drawing room soon. Anders almost smiled at him.

"I agree," said Matthias, quietly, from the edge of the room. He was so meek and shy, he was surprised he had turned up. Last he had heard, the one-eyed seventh prince had been overseas with his wife and son. He couldn't imagine why he would have come all that way to be in the company of the brothers he feared more than loved. He glanced up for a fraction of a second, only to drop his gaze the moment Friedrich gave him a pointed frown.

"Right, then. If none of us are brave enough to bring it up properly," Peder muttered, propping an elbow on the arm of his chair, resting his cheek on his hand as he once more swirled his drink with the other. "What do we do with the little brat?"

"We can't exactly execute him," Stephan said, his gold coin pocketed and his arms now crossed over his chest as he chewed his cigar thoughtfully.

"Father would never have allowed that." Peder agreed, his eyes flickering down to the honey and amber coloured drink in his glass before taking another long sip.

"But Friedrich might." Supplied Denby, looming quietly in the shadows, looking oddly like a vulture where he was perched in the furthest corner of the room. He hadn't even raised his impassive grey eyes, still reading the very heavy looking book in his lap through the round spectacles balanced on his nose.

Even Peder stared at Denby, then. All eyes were on him and Friedrich. The tension in the room could be cut with a knife, and none of them seemed to even breathe while they waited for the explosion that was sure to come from the King of the Southern Isles. He was used to being respected without the slightest hint of insult. That was a very bold thing their seldom noticed brother had said, and Friedrich looked as though he was ready to skin him for it. A low growl rumbled in the back of the king's throat, and he stood, bracing his hands on his desk and leaning over it slightly. He gave the smallest curl of his lip, his mustache gave a little twitch, and he let out a slow, steady breath.

"That is enough. We are not children here to squabble." That was the single calmest thing Anders had ever heard his brother say, and it sent a chill down his spine like he'd never felt before. His eyes roamed over the room, moved across each of the ten men before him. "I have called this council among us because our brother has fallen far. The shame of this could easily be the ruin us all, so we must find a solution before it's too well known what our brother has done. Preferably, one that puts an end to this weather, and that does _not_ require an execution."

"You were alright with execution when you heard of what he'd done in Arendelle," pointed out Soren, seated next to his twin on one of the couches. He wouldn't stop tapping his feet against the carpet, and the constant 'pat-patpat-pat' was getting irritating.

"You were," agreed Skyler with a solemn nod, though there was a grin on his face that was ill suited to his tone. "You were raging and rampaging around the palace for days! Said you'd chop his head off with your own sword the second he stepped into your hallway!"

"The executioner told us he was worried about his job if you kept up the way you were talking!" added Soren with a laugh that was really more of a cackle, and was cut off abruptly as Friedrich slammed his hands down on his desk, fury making itself plain on his face. The twins shrank back under his gaze, and fell silent, watching him with wary, worried hazel eyes.

"Honestly, Friedrich, there's no need to scare them like that... Let's not forget why we're here. What do you suggest we do with Hans?" asked Matthias, cool and collected, if a bit nervous as he twisted his necktie in his hands.

"If I knew, brother, I wouldn't have called for a council. How should I know? The boy conjures flames from nowhere. I have no experience with that. We all thought he'd got a handle on it years ago." Friedrich said defensively, sitting down hard in his comfortable chair and running a hand through his greying chestnut hair.

"If he could control them once, perhaps he can get them under control again?" suggested Nicholas, who appeared to be taking all of this far less seriously than he should be, going by the small plate of cakes in his hand that he'd got from who knows where.

"Do we have the patience for that?" asked Ryker, an eyebrow shooting up as he leaned back against the couch cushions, drumming his fingers still against his knee.

"You may not. The real question is does he deserve the time to find out? Let's not forget his actions in Arendelle..."

"Of course he does. We're all of us decent men, aren't we? Wouldn't any of us take the chance if given? Wouldn't any of us deserve the right to try? Well... Any of us except perhaps Peder."

"Oh, as if you're a prize, Stephan. Really. How many girls have you married when drunk off your ass? Five? Six? All paid off to keep their mouths shut, I believe?"

"Good Lord, you're not going to bring that up _again_ , are you?"

And just like that, everyone was arguing. Petty jabs and insults were being thrown like grenades this way and that across the room, and Anders didn't have the patience for it. He rubbed at his temples, and shut his eyes, and grit his teeth as the room became more and more hostile and angry, full of nothing but the bickering voices of his brothers. How had a conversation on the fate of their youngest brother turned into this? Discussing themselves. Quite telling, that they could turn absolutely anything into an argument over which of them was the most deserving of the rights a commoner would be given in any other kingdom under the sun. Friedrich was on his feet again, pacing back and forth behind his desk as he retorted to something Denby had said, Ryker's hand was on his sword as Peder and Stephan's argument became a bit more heated than it safely should, and Skyler and Soren were simply throwing stray comments into the air, waiting for each one to get snatched up and used as fodder.

"Gentlemen, gentlemen! Let's not forget why we're here. Let's not war among ourselves when there are pressing matters at hand." Ingo's soft voice cut through the air in a way that Anders hadn't anticipated, and just like that, everyone fell silent, and turned their attention slowly to him. "What our brother did were the actions of a man, and they were inexcusable. But what he's doing now, creating fire in thin air, bringing about this weather and drought, are no doubt entirely beyond his control. He is mortal, and not designed for power like this. But if he can control it as we all know he once did, think what we can do. How many countries do you think would be willing to go to war with a prince who can burn their armies to ash with a thought?"

Anders frowned at the idea of using their brother as a weapon, but a murmur of agreement had rippled around the room. "Let's not argue and bicker amongst ourselves when we can all work together. If Hans can harness his gifts, we can find a way to use them for our benefit. For the good of our country."

"And how do you propose we go about doing that?" Anders cut in. His voice was a half growl, even to his own ears, and after the soft, melodic sound of his brother's having filled the stifling air, it sounded rough. Too angry. Too uncontrolled and unrestrained.

Ingo's brown eyes moved smoothly to look up at him, and his smile lessened, just a bit, as he considered the question. "There are others with powers, I believe. Natural born abilities, like our little Hans. Perhaps if we were to have him... Tutored?" He supplied gently, looking now to Friedrich instead.

"But who, brother dear, could help our poor wayward fire child and not, put bluntly and frankly, die?" asked Denby, who, again, didn't even bother to look up from his book, instead simply turning the page and pausing as he awaited an answer.

Ingo frowned, and his eyes rose to the ceiling as he considered it. He lifted a slender finger and tapped idly against his lower lip as he thought, fingertip tapping in time with his foot on the floor. He stayed this way for a few moments.

"I seem to recall hearing of a similar problem to ours in the kingdom he made a fool of himself in. Arendelle, wasn't it? The young queen, she plunged it into an eternal winter that wasn't as eternal as they thought, if I'm not mistaken." His eyes dropped from the ceiling, and settled on the king in the corner. "She comes to mind. She seems to understand how to rein herself in well enough to thaw an entire kingdom. Perhaps she can rein in Hans, as well."

"I don't know about you, but I wouldn't really be too keen on helping a person that tried to kill both me and my metaphorical sister." Peder piped up lightly, dryly.  
Ingo folded his hands in his lap, interlacing his fingers as he looked to his big brother. "Compassion, Peder. Compassion and understanding. She has natural born powers that got away from her. I'm sure she will appreciate his struggle."

He had a point. And a good one, at that.

"I'll go." Anders said, resigned, but firm.

The room seemed to pause, and all eyes turned to him, and when he met those individual gazes, he saw confusion, and a fair bit of astonishment. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and blew it out through his nose.

"Ingo is right. She might be Hans' only chance. I will go, plead our case, and if she accepts... She will return to the Southern Isles with me."

"Absolutely not," Friedrich said with a shake of his greying head, crossing his arms tightly over his broad chest. His chin tucked down, and he shook his head again. "No. You heard Peder. Hans attempted to kill both of them. She would likely close the gates the moment she saw a ship bearing the flag of the Southern Isles."

"But it is worth at least a try, isn't it?" Ryker prompted, standing to side with him. Anders gave him a hesitant smile, quite proud of himself for not toppling forwards as his surprisingly strong little brother clapped him on the back. "If you've any other ideas, we're all happy to hear them."

"They would be insulted by the very question," Friedrich insisted, and they could see the worry lines on his face that he didn't want to show. They'd known him too long. They could see everything he didn't want to show, and they knew he loathed that. "It would be a bad idea to even attempt it."

"The young queen is compassionate, and wise," Matthias said slowly, pushing off the wall to come and stand with Ryker. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"She could take offence. There would be a dispute. The possibility of war. Must I continue?"

"You worry too much, brother. Trust our judgement. Write her a letter yourself, and allow me to deliver it on all of our behalf. She may yet surprise you."

Friedrich's fists tightened, and his knuckles turned white as he frowned at the three awaiting his answer. His mustache twitched along with his lip, and Anders raised his eyebrows a tick, holding his breath. If the king refused to allow it, it would never happen. There was no way in Hell it would happen, and the Southern Isles would likely burn. He hoped his brother could see that there was no other realistic option. Granted, it was a bit of a long shot the queen would agree to come - she had every reason in the world to decline - but his biggest fault always had been his lack of trust in the compassion of human beings.

"Very well. It shall be as you have said. You leave tomorrow, Anders. Alert your men. Speed is of the essence."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Blue](http://claraoszwin.tumblr.com/)'s totally a goddess. I literally wouldn't have even got this far without her, so, yeah, she's amazing.  
>  This is my first attempt at actually writing a fic, so, here's hoping I do okay.  
> There's a going to be a lot of art for this fic, from me, which can all be found [on my Tumblr](http://oswaldz.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyy new chapter. I was meant to post this yesterday but I lost track of time. So it's a little over a week's wait but... Yeah. Not one of my favourite chapters, but hey the story's moving along.

Anders had never in his life been so happy to set sail, and that was saying something. After the decision was made to approach the young queen of Arendelle for help, the preparations had been made overnight, and his ship left dock as the sun rose over the sea. The voyage wasn't particularly long, but he was honestly surprised that Hans had been able to tolerate it when he made the trip, and even more surprised he'd gone voluntarily. Since he could remember, his youngest brother had hated the sea, and, now knowing he had power over fire, Anders understood why. He'd always thought it had something to do with the twins pushing him off the dock when he was a boy and having to be hauled out by their father. (Though, that was also likely at least part of it.) 

With Friedrich's letter to the queen tucked safely away in the breast pocket of his overcoat, Anders was feeling oddly buoyant when he stepped down onto the dock. Here, the weather had a much more pleasant feeling. It was warm, but nowhere near the unseasonal heat the Southern Isles was currently experiencing, and there was a chill in the air that felt fresh and carried with it the scent of the sea. The cheerful, bustling city was truly beautiful under the mid-Spring sun, and he could see why the palace was so widely regarded as nothing short of magnificent. It was unfortunate he'd never visited the kingdom before, and that he was only there to beg the queen for assistance where she had absolutely every right to refuse.

He would have to hope for the best. 

"Ah- Captain!" called one of the men, and he turned to address him, only to be barrelled into and knocked backwards by a young woman who seemed to be either blind or unable to stop. She let out a shriek, and a huff of breath, and he found himself opening his eyes to the sight of her splayed over his chest, her ginger hair mussed and coming out of its braids.

And then a snowman, of all things, appeared. A perfectly solid snowman with a snow cloud over its head rushed over, and looked directly at him, raising its eyebrows and looking moderately surprised. If it was, it didn't seem to linger on it before it climbed on top of the girl, sitting on her back and tapping her side gently. "Anna? Wake up, Anna, you're not allowed to sleep on top of strangers." It said. Apparently it spoke. 

The girl groaned, lifted a petite hand to her head, and then she paused, seemed to notice where she was and what/who she was lying on, and then looked up at him with embarrassment clear in her blue eyes. 

"Oh, sorry, sorry, new shoes, they're not- No traction," she said hurriedly as she clambered off him, sending the snowman flying back a few yards, and she dusted off the green fabric of her long skirts before all but flinging herself at him, grabbing his arm and hauling him to his feet. "I'm so sorry, that was- Are you okay? You're not hurt?" 

This was becoming absurd, but at least she had manners. Anders almost laughed from sheer incredulity. He instead straightened his coat, patted a hand against the letter still safe in his pocket, and offered her a stiff smile. He was pointedly avoiding looking at the snowman who had waddled back to stand at the girl's side, followed by what appeared to be a reindeer. 

Alright.

"I'm perfectly fine, thank you." He assured her as she looked at him with a grimace.

"Oh, that's a relief, I was afraid I'd broken your neck for a minute there. I should've been looking where I was going, I just, uh, I've never seen your ship before and I wanted to come see who you were and... Like I said..." she kicked her foot absently, scuffed it against the wooden planks. "New shoes. Never know how far you're gonna skid until you almost knock someone into the fjord." She laughed nervously, and scratched behind her ear, averting her eyes and looking instead at the snowman beside her. 

"Ask him why he's here." Whispered the snowman, jabbing her in the leg with his arm. How did his arms move? How was he alive and talking? Arendelle was a strange place, apparently. And now the girl was looking at him, again, expectantly, her eyebrows raised and a pleasant smile on her face. Like she was waiting for an answer.

 "I'm here to visit the palace. I'm seeking an audience with the queen," he said, frowning slightly as the reindeer inched forwards and stretched out its neck to sniff at his shoulder. "You wouldn't happen to know the way, would you?"

Excitement sparked in her big eyes, and she nodded eagerly, further undoing her braids in the process. "Yeah! I'll show you, come on, this way," she announced eagerly, grabbing ahold of his sleeve and leading him down the docks. "Least I can do after, y'know... Throwing you down like that. Sorry again."

She apologized a lot, this girl. He was quite sure if it was endearing or irritating, yet.

The snowman and the reindeer bounded after them, and he was so close to asking why she had a reindeer, and, for that matter, a snowman who could walk and evidently talk (Good lord, did it _talk_ ), but thought better of it. He was frankly a bit afraid of the answer.

"So... What brings you to Arendelle?" asked the girl, and he blinked, raising his eyebrows at her. Did she not recognize the flag of the Southern Isles on his ship? Surely she had to.

"Business." He replied simply, hoping the letter hadn't been too badly crumpled when she'd landed directly on top of it. She gave a low whistle, weaving through people in the crowd and towing him behind her. She took such ridiculously long strides for such a small woman, it was almost like she was about to break into a run at any second.

"Lots of business since the gates opened up," she said with a nod, glancing at him over her shoulder. "It was always so boring, before. Gates open is better. By the way what's your name? That's Sven, trying to eat Olaf's nose, and I'm Anna."

"... Anders." He said. She was a bit peculiar. She talked to him as if she'd known him her whole life and was just giving him a tour. "Wait. Anna?"

"Mmhm!"

Wasn't the princess' name Anna? Oh, God, he hadn't asked the _princess_ to take him to the palace, had he? So informally? He hoped he hadn't. He really hoped he hadn't. He was going to have to ask. He stopped to address her properly, and the moment he wasn't following her, she turned to look at him, a little smile on her lips and her hands folded behind her back.

"You don't... You don't happen to be _Princess_ Anna?" he dared, holding his breath. She rocked back and forth on her feet, and nodded her head, and he was _mortified_. This wasn't off to a good start. This was absolutely off to a terrible start. "Ah... My apologies, princess. Forgive me, I've never visited Arenelle before, I didn't recognize you."

"Oh, it's okay! Really, it's fine, don't worry about it!" she beamed, bouncing on her toes. She was just... Full of sunshine. And she most definitely did not act like a princess, but it seemed to suit her, somehow.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly. Prince Anders, of the Southern Isles," he said, almost tripping over the last part as he bowed to her, and she was quiet for a moment before she giggled, like that was the funniest thing she'd heard all day, and dropped into a curtsey.

"Nice to meet you, Prince Anders," she grinned, giving him a cheery look when they stood before on another. He offered her an apologetic smile, and before he could even open his mouth, she leaned forwards and grabbed onto his sleeve again, seemingly unphased by the fact he was from the Southern Isles, and she continued to lead him onward. "C'mon, I'll take you the rest of the way."

The snowman - Olaf, she'd said his name was? - came trotting up, all but jogging to keep pace with him, squinting up at him. If he was going to be frank, Olaf unnerved him. He was _living snow_. That was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and, while he was no stranger to new, odd things, a walking, talking snowman was something that just made him feel uneasy. Still, he kept all emotion from showing on his face, as always, when Anna led him more gently through the palace gates and into the entry hall.

It truly was incredible. Friedrich's castle was grand, certainly, but it felt cold, and there was a distinct lack of colour inside. Outside in the gardens, it was bright and colourful, welcoming, but inside, it was far from it, full of dark stones and dark wood and dark drapes and dark carpets. Darkness and gold and huge, echoing rooms were all that palace was. Queen Elsa's palace, however... Well. It felt positively _warm_. It was cheerful and immaculately kept, free of the dusty feeling most palaces seemed to have. Light streamed in through the windows and fell on the brightly coloured carpets and drapes, and the whole place just didn't feel empty or cavernous, it felt like a home. Which was extremely strange, considering the fact it really shouldn't, in his experience. But, then, his experience wasn't the best to go off.

Anna seemed to recognize the look in his eyes, and she smiled. "The best part's the floor. It's _amazing_ to slide down when you're wearing your socks, if you're interested. Which you're probably not, so... Yeah, Elsa's- Elsa!" she called, cupping a hand near her mouth as she summoned her sister. "Elsa- Oh, there you are! Hi!"

Anders did his best not to stare when he saw her at the top of the staircase, a hand lingering on the railing. The young queen's beauty was well known throughout her kingdom, and word hadn't been missed in the Southern Isles. Standing there, lit by the sun streaming through the window behind her, she was absolutely radiant. She wore a deep blue dress that flowed like water behind her, the bottom spread out on the floor like it had been arranged that way, and a train of white translucent material floated behind her, sparkling with what looked like ice. The crown sat atop her carefully styled hair, and as she turned surprisingly warm blue eyes to him, he remembered himself, and dropped immediately into a bow.

"Prince Anders, of the Southern Isles, your Majesty." He said, his voice thankfully steady. He heard Anna bite back a giggle, and then her hand was pulling him upright again, and she took a step towards the stairs as the queen all but glided down them to meet her sister at the bottom.

"This is my sister, Queen Elsa," Anna said brightly, looping her arm through hers when she was at her side. She sounded proud to say it, and he didn't blame her.

"Hello," the queen said in a soft voice, the smallest of smiles gracing her rose coloured lips. And then it faltered, and she blinked, her eyebrows drawing together slightly as she looked at his face. "Ah... Prince Anders, there's a very fresh bruise on your face that's turning darker by the second."

Anders raised his eyebrows, and brushed his fingers over his cheekbone, pushing lightly and finding the familiar throb of a deep bruise. The princess gave a nervous giggle, and scratched the back of her head, grinning sheepishly.

"Yeah, sorry, that was me," she said, looking between him and her sister.

"I'm sorry for your injury. I could send for the doctor if you like..?" Queen Elsa prompted with a kindly smile and gentle eyes.

"No, thank you, it's- It's fine, thank you, your Majesty," he hesitated, just for a moment. Alright, well. Here goes everything. "I apologize for the abruptness, but I am actually here on a matter of some urgency."

There was an immediate change in the queen. She straightened her already very straight back, tilted her chin up the slightest bit, and the softness in her eyes was replaced with the very ice she was known to control. She didn't look severe, by any means, but she looked like a ruler. She looked like the queen. "Of course. Shall we go somewhere more private?" she turned gestured he follow her, and took a step up the stair, pausing for a moment to lay a gentle hand on her sister's arm. "Anna, would you ask Gerda to bring us some tea, please?"

Anna gave an enthusiastic nod and hopped to, trotting from the room with a skip in her step and a snowman and a reindeer tripping after her. Queen Elsa smiled after them fondly, and then returned her attention to present matters and walking up the stairs with Anders in her company. The palace truly was huge, but she navigated it with the ease he would expect, and after leading him through several halls and up another flight of stairs and down one of the longest corridors he'd ever encountered, they were in her study.

The room was quite lived in, by the look of it. It was large enough to hold several armchairs and a couch, bookcases which held hundreds of books, and a gold telescope and globe near the massive paned window that overlooked the harbour. He shut the door as she asked him to, and she glided over to the window, standing there and looking the picture of royalty. Regal barely touched the energy she gave off in waves. She turned, then, her hands - ungloved, he noted with the slightest bit of surprise - folded gently together.

"Your matter of urgency, Prince Anders. What is it?" her voice carried the strangest kind of command in it for one so soft. Somehow, coupled with her appearance, it almost made him feel like he should avert his eyes when he spoke directly to her.

"Your Majesty, what I have to say concerns... My youngest brother." He said, as delicately as he could manage. He saw the change in her as soon as he was mentioned. Her eyebrows pulled together, her eyes hardened, and her lips parted, just slightly, as if she wanted to say something, and then she carefully pressed them together again. She relaxed her expression, and returned to her former mask of serenity.

"Please. Sit," she said, with a nod to the chair that sat before the massive desk in the center of the room. He sank into the seat willingly, and swallowed just slightly before she came to sit in the chair on the other side. She looked to him calmly, and her eyes were empty of anger. "Tell me what troubles the Southern Isles."

Steeling himself, Anders reached into his breast pocket and eased out the letter. Thankfully, it was relatively uncrumpled, and the king's seal, deep green wax stamped with his insignia, was unbroken in the middle. "I was charged to give you this by my eldest brother, King Friedrich." He said as she pulled the parchment from his fingers with a delicate tug.

Pausing for a moment, she broke the seal and unfolded the letter, and began to read it. The further down the page she went, the more her eyebrows drew together, the harder the set of her mouth became, and the fifth prince was feeling a bit nervous where he sat. Her lips moved just a bit, a quiet mutter that he couldn't hear, and she stood, the letter still in her grasp. She walked the room slowly, reading the creased paper again, her eyes scanning down the page more slowly than before, as if trying to be certain she had read it correctly the first time.

When she turned to look at him again, she was frowning, and studying him, like she was trying to figure out if he was really there for the reasons he said he was. Folding the paper, she returned to her seat, and placed the letter on the desk as she sat. She set her elbows on the desk, and clasped all but her index fingers together. She rested those two against her lips, and considered him for a moment before her eyes flickered back to the letter on the desk, clearly deep in thought, and he really couldn't blame her for it. It was a tremendous favour the king was asking of her.

"But why ask me for help? If it's as you say it is, if he's losing grip of his powers, fire and ice, surely those don't mix?" Her tone was impassive, and he couldn't get the slightest read on whether she was considering to accept or decline.

Anders ducked his head, and wet his lips. He cleared his throat, and gave his best attempt not to mumble or mutter the words when he finally spoke. Why had he volunteered to do this? "Your Majesty... We don't... Know of anyone else that wouldn't..." he hesitated, searching for the words that would least offend.

"Die?" she supplied, and he shut his eyes with a sigh. This was a horrible plan.

He raised his head, and looked her in the eye, and nodded. "Unfortunately so. We wouldn't be asking this of you if there were anyone else. We're well aware of our brother's... Transgressions in your kingdom," he said, resisting the urge to grimace at the mention of it. "I wouldn't be here if my brothers and I hadn't been able to convince Friedrich to let us at least approach you with the subject."

"And you imagined I would be willing to accept?" she asked, and there was the slightest edge to her voice. "Is that the impression I give, Prince Anders?"

"No. Friedrich imagined you would take it as an insult, but my younger brother suggested you wouldn't."

"And why would that be?"

"Compassion, and understanding," Anders said, and his own tone was more hollow than he meant it to be. He raised a hand, and rubbed his eyes, letting out a slow breath. "Hans is not in control of himself."

"So your brother thought I might know the feeling, then."

"Yes. And, he thought you might help for the sake of the citizens of the Southern Isles. The heat is rising, Queen Elsa. It hasn't rained for weeks, and they need the rain."

She was quiet, then, looking at him with no shortage of skepticism hidden carefully in her eyes. But he could see conflict on her face, and she stood again, pacing the room with long, slow strides. He didn't watch her, instead he looked down at his hands in his lap, bunching and unbunching on the fabric of his coat as he waited for her response. In all honesty, he was expecting a no. They deserved a no, after the way Hans had behaved, what he'd done - and attempted to do - of course  they deserved a no.

"What do _you_ think, Prince Anders?" she asked, softly, but with every bit of her status and command soaking her voice. She was looking at him, and there was something like sadness on her face. "What do you think my response will be? Do you expect a yes?"

"I don't know. You have every reason and right to decline."

The queen watched him carefully, back stiff and straight, her hands coming to clasp in front of her, brushing the satin and silk of her flowing blue skirts. She shifted slightly, stood at something of an angle, her hip moving smoothly to stick out just a bit. "I am not a toy. Not a thing to be gawked at in a shop window because of my novelty." She began, raising her chin, and Anders' heart sank. "My powers have been a part of me since I was born, and I’m not going to be considered some sort of... Weapon or tool for others to use. I have no love for Prince Hans, and have no obligation to help him, whatever his troubles."

Well, there it was. The lead up to a very eloquently put 'no'. He hadn't expected more, but he had hoped, he had dearly hoped, she might see the reasoning. Ingo hadn't been right, this time. Compassion and understanding she may have, but apparently not for Hans. It was a fair thing she was doing. He couldn't expect her to be willing to help the man who would have been sitting on her throne if fate was less kind to her.

"However... I do understand the position of having a power you can't control. I understand how it can get away from someone. For the sake of the people his loss of control is affecting, I will do everything that I can to help your brother."

Before Anders could do anything but blink, the door opened, and Anna walked in, carefully carrying two cups of tea on a tray. "Hey. Sorry, that took longer than I thought it would. What did I miss?"

Queen Elsa gave her sister a soft look, before she brushed past her with a swish of her trailing cloak and train. "I'll be accompanying Prince Anders when he returns to the Southern Isles. You'll be in charge while I'm gone. No reindeer in the throne room." She all but threw the words over her shoulder as she swept out of the room, leaving a very shocked and slightly confused prince and princess in her wake.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apparently this chapter comes off a little shippy between Elsa and Anders. If you feel like that's what I'm going for, don't worry, it's not, Anders just apparently has killer chemistry with everybody.

By the time Elsa heard the knock at her door, she had had time to regret her abrupt exit. It had been rude, and she should have seen Prince Anders back to the docks, at the very least, but she'd needed to be alone. She heard the knock again, and she shut her eyes, letting out a sigh as she moved to unlock the door. Anna was, as expected, standing outside it with her foot tapping against the floor, and her arms crossed. Her mouth was set in a hard line, and her eyebrow was raised, and she definitely expected some answers.

Elsa turned away, moving across her room to sit at her vanity table, lifting her hands to her elaborately styled hair and beginning to undo it all. She could see her sister's reflection in the mirror, and she wasn't looking very happy as she shut the door with a kick, standing in front of it with her arms still firmly crossed over her chest.

"Did you think he was cute? I think he was pretty cute."

She stopped abruptly, and swivelled her head to stare at her. "Anna-"

"Because that's the only reason I can think of for you saying yes to that!

She sighed, turning back to the mirror and letting down her braid with a final tug. She rubbed her fingers on her scalp, wincing a bit, glad to be free of the pinching, tugging pain of those hairpins. "If you're going to shout at me, please don't make it into a joke."

"You doing this is a joke."

Elsa bit her cheek, and pulled her braid across her shoulder, releasing the tie and combing her fingers through her thick hair, letting it fall loosely in waves down her back. She picked her brush up off the vanity table, and began pulling it through her hair, wanting to appear as busy as possible. She didn't want to talk about this. She wanted to argue about it even less. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

"No, you don't have to, but you should. Because we're sisters, and we agreed to not shut each other out." Anna's voice was gentler, now, just a bit, but she could still hear the edge, the underlying anger and frustration in her tone. She heard her footsteps on the hardwood floor, and she glanced at her as she came to stand by the vanity table. "I know you're the queen, you get to decide what to do, but... Elsa, are we forgetting what he did? I mean... Does it really not matter to you?"

Anna's question hurt. Their relationship had been mended in the past year and they were certainly not short on sisterly love, but she still felt like she didn't trust her, and that question just stung. She set down her brush, and turned to face her once more, standing, this time, to address her properly. She deserved that much. She deserved her full attention.

"I'm sorry. Of course it matters. Of course it does," she was standing there, looking small, and upset, and she hated to see that. Her little sister looked up at her with those big eyes, and she almost changed her mind. "But... Don't you see why I have to help?"

"No! He was a jerk! He was _such_ a jerk!" she frowned. Well. She wasn't wrong, there. Though, ‘jerk’ was understating it a bit. "Please don't go. He doesn't deserve your help."

"Anna-"

"No, he really doesn't. Are we forgetting what he did? He acted all prince charming and perfect until he got what he wanted, or, y'know, until he was _going_ to get what he wanted. He used me, he was going to use you, too, until he realized you couldn't control yourself, he tried to take over the kingdom, and then, oh, yeah, _he tried to kill us both_."

"... Everybody has their flaws?"

" _Elsa_."

"I understand, I do, but it's not for him. It's for the people he might hurt. I hate him, you know that I do, but if his powers are going to affect other people negatively, then what choice do I have?"

Tense silence settled in, and neither of them dared break it just yet. Elsa didn't realize she was beginning to wring her hands and rub at her fingers, a habit she'd thought she'd broken after getting control of herself, but she supposed not, and Anna noticed. She noticed the way she was tugging on her fingers, and biting on her lip, the desperation in her eyes, and she understood. At least a little. Her sister had lost control, and their people had suffered as a consequence. She didn't want that happening, even if it was the Southern Isles.

Nibbling at her lip, Anna rubbed her arm, looking at her shoes as she searched for words that would help. Her big sister had a similar line of sight, a look of discomfort in her eyes, and she pressed her lips together as she gave an attempt at a smile, inching closer to her, and giving her arm a light punch.

"Well, plus side to the visit... That prince who brought the letter _is_ pretty cute." She grinned, nudging her with her elbow, this time.

A little laugh bubbled out of Elsa, and she pulled her into a hug, wrapping her arms tightly around her and pressing her cheek against her mussed ginger hair. Anna was too forgiving, too kind to her. She could never have asked for a more loving sister.

"... I'm just saying, you could do worse." She said, her voice slightly muffled, and full of laughter, and Elsa laughed with her, shaking her head as she pulled back, leaving her hands on her shoulders and looking at her fondly.

"Thank you for understanding." She said quietly. Anna simply smiled, and her gaze drifted to the vanity table, and the crown resting on its deep blue pillow, gleaming in the clear sunlight that shone through the windows. A look of apprehension flickered across her face, settled in her eyes and tugged on her mouth, and Elsa recognized the look easily. She'd seen it in the mirror countless times.

"So I guess I'll be looking after the place while you're gone, then, huh?" she said, and, despite the cheery tone, she didn't miss the concern in her voice, the waver, the little way she caught her lip under her teeth. With a slender hand, Elsa put a finger under her chin, and turned her face away from the crown.

It was the same way their mother had done it, when she'd wanted them to look at her, and she saw the recognition and twinge of sadness pass over her.

"You'll be fine, Anna," she assured her in her softest voice, offering her a gentle smile.

She beamed up at her, and, for a few moments, it was quiet. And then Anna clapped her hands together, and bounced on her toes, and grinned in a way that was actually a little bit frightening. Elsa held up a finger as she opened her mouth, a stern look on her pale face.

"You may hold _one_ ball, and one ball only." She said firmly, raising her chin just a bit.

"Three!"

"One."

"Two?"

" _One_."

 

**. . .**

 

On the morning of the third day of Prince Anders' visit, everything was ready and prepared and packed, and, while Kristoff and a few of the sailors loaded the ship, the princess, the queen, a snowman and a reindeer stood watching on the docks together. The sisters had spent every second together that could be spared, to make up for the fact they wouldn't likely be seeing each other again for a long time. It hadn't been big on dignity for Elsa, but her little sister had loved every second of it, and she'd loved to see her so happy.

"Any last second advice?" Anna asked in a slightly trembling voice as she let go of the collar of Elsa’s soft purple cloak, and looked up at her, searching for any guidance or direction she hadn't heard already, hundreds of times. "That you maybe didn't touch on before?"

"Don't let Olaf out in the rain," she said, with a small laugh. She would miss her. She would miss her a lot. But she would be completely fine on her own. She had Kristoff, and Olaf, and the help of several handpicked counsellors to keep her pointed the right way until the queen returned.

"Yeah, don't let me out in the rain," he agreed with a solemn nod. He'd taken to leaning against Elsa's leg in the last couple of days, hanging onto her skirt in a way that was oddly reminiscent of a child clinging to their mother, as he was now. He frowned, then, and looked up at her. "Wait, why can't I go out in the rain?"

"You'll freeze into solid ice," she said, patting a cold hand fondly on his head. "Or melt."

"Okay! Don't go outside! Now, does that apply to Anna, too, or she okay?"

That earned a laugh from them both, and she smiled, kneeling down to hug Olaf. "Take care of Anna. And be good."

"We'll be fine, go have fun!" he promised, patting her back gently before she pulled away. She stood up, brushing the dust from her cloak, and smiling at the way Olaf was immediately hanging onto her again. She wished he could come with her, but she didn't imagine the heat would be very forgiving to a snowman, even if he did have an eternal cold spell around him.

"Your Majesty," came Prince Anders' calm voice, and she turned to look at him, standing prim and proper at the end of the dock. "The ship is ready to sail."

"Thank you. A moment, please?"

He gave a nod, and waited patiently as she turned to look at her odd collection of a family. Olaf still clung to her skirt as she scratched Sven's nose, and hugged around his neck, despite the fur that was definitely going to cling to her clothes.

"No eating Olaf's nose," she said affectionately, and she received a noncommittal sounding snort in response. She smiled, and pulled away, her eyes flickering to Kristoff. She had to crane her neck a bit to look at him properly. "And you, please keep them out of trouble."

"I'll try," he said with a sheepish grin, and she smiled at him fondly. "Good luck. Slap him, maybe, he... Kind of deserves it."

Elsa shook her head, and hugged him, knowing he likely wouldn't initiate one himself. She was happy to call him family. He wrapped his arms around her, and it was a bit like what she imagined hugging a bear would feel like. He gave her another (rather tight) squeeze before releasing her, and she turned to Anna.

She pressed her lips into a hard line, and lifted her hands, checking the buckle of her travelling cloak for her, again, smoothing the collar in a mothering way. She'd been doing that a lot in the past few days. Mothering her. That was supposed to be the older sister's job. Elsa reached up and took her warm hands in her cold ones, and squeezed her fingers.

"I'm going to miss you. You'll write to me, won't you?"

"I'll write to you every single day." She promised with a nod, beaming up at her. "And I'll keep everything running smooth as silk. You don't have to worry about a thing, I got this. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

Elsa hugged her tightly, hanging onto her as if her life depended on it. She knew how hard this would be for her, despite her not being alone. She knew how she worried, how she was afraid she wouldn't do well in her place, but she knew she would be fine. She trusted her to the ends of the Earth, and she could handle Arendelle.

"Promise you'll come back." She said, her voice small and muffled against her cloak, and Elsa forced back the memories of what had happened the last time family had set sail.

"I promise, I will come back." She replied in a whisper, for her sister's ears only, and she tightened her arms around her. "Be good. I love you."

"I love you, too. Don't keep the cute prince waiting, go on," she said, laughing wetly as they broke apart. She looked up at her with damp eyes full of love, and Elsa was happy to see Kristoff wrap an arm around her shoulders the second he saw she needed it.

Finally, she looked down at Olaf, who still hung onto her, and tilted his head to meet her eyes. She patted his head again, gently, and gave him a soft smile as he reluctantly released her, and stepped back to hang onto Anna, instead. She took a deep breath, and smiled at her family, biting her lip as she turned around and headed down the dock.

Prince Anders offered her his hand for support, and she took it as she boarded the ship. The deck was surprisingly stable underfoot, and she made her way to the railing, her heart pounding in her chest as she realized, very suddenly, she was going on an adventure. She'd never been to another country before. Being closed off as she was as a child, she'd never been able to visit other kingdoms, and she was finally going to. It made her feel the oddest combination of nervous and excited, and her heart gave a little leap as the anchor was raised from the water, and the sailors busied themselves. The ship was all too soon moving, and Elsa waved to her family, leaning further over the rail than she maybe ought to.

"Bye Elsa!" Anna called, waving a hand high above her head and standing on her toes. "Have fun! Don't marry any princes unless you're sure they're nice!"

"Goodbye!" Elsa replied, a breathless laugh escaping her. For once, she didn't mind not appearing proper. "Don't change any laws while I'm away!"

As the ship sailed out further, Anna kept pace with it, until she couldn't any longer, and stood at the very end of the dock, waving frantically, calling goodbye after goodbye, and Elsa felt the strongest tug of uncertainty in leaving her. She would be fine, she reminded herself.

She would be completely fine.

She watched as her home shrank slowly behind the ship, and she let out a shaking breath as Prince Anders joined her at the railing, his hands folded behind his back and a look on his face that was almost serene. She took a deep breath of the cold sea air, and turned her attention to him, smiling just a bit.

"Have you ever been on the open sea, your Majesty?" he asked, and she quite liked, she found, the way his voice seemed to be in a constant state of gentleness. She shook her head, and her gaze dropped to her hands, and the varnished wood on which they rested.

"No. I've never left Arendelle, before," she admitted, a tad sheepishly.

"Then you may wish to sit down until you grow accustomed to the ship. The constant motion can... Be a bit overwhelming, at times." He said kindly, and she didn't miss the amusement in his tone. "If you feel the need to, my cabin is open to you."

Elsa definitely didn't want to go inside. She liked the salty sea breeze, and the sharpness of the air about her. She liked the sound the waves made as the ship sliced through them. She liked the feeling of something new. But there would be time for new. So she smiled, and turned reluctantly from the railing. "If you think that's best."

"We might talk there, if you have questions," he added, giving her the tiniest smile as he offered her his arm, which she took without hesitation, and they made their way across the worn wooden deck. "I can only assume you have quite a few."

"I have a handful," she replied, and he glanced at her as he opened the massive polished door for her. It creaked along with the rest of the rocking ship, and she found herself wanting to grab onto something stable just in case.

She released Anders' arm, and took a step onto the rich carpet, and already she wanted to explore the finely furnished room.

It definitely wasn’t better than the deck. She couldn't feel the wind tugging on her hair, or the spray of salt water, and it was far warmer inside than out, but it had a pleasing kind of smell, like boot polish and faint cedar, and it was like stepping into a museum or library in that she automatically wanted to rush about the room and touch absolutely everything there was to touch. Her eyes flickered about the surprisingly big room, taking in the paintings that hung on the walls, the hundreds of trinkets and odd sculptures and bits of jewellery that were placed here and there, on desks and tables and cabinets and bookcases. Her fingers itched to trail over the globe that sat so near the door, or the telescope on the shelf near the large mahogany table, or to peer at the maps  laid across every flat surface there was. She bit her lip, reminding herself she wasn't a child.

"Forgive me, your Majesty, but I should allow my men some notice before I disappear," he said from behind her, and she gave a nod, her gaze tearing itself from the cabin, even as she took another step inside.

"Of course." She replied simply, folding her hands together and offering him a smile, one he returned before placing his hand on the doorknob.

"I shouldn't be long. Please, make yourself comfortable." He said before shutting the heavy door, muffling the sound of crashing waves and shrieking gulls, just a bit.

Elsa looked around herself, again, and she wanted to pick everything up. She wanted to explore the cabin and study all the charts and maps and paintings, and discover the purposes of all the things she hadn't seen before, and she reminded herself, firmly, that she wasn't to act that way. She wasn't to dash about and act like anything less than the queen she was.

But apparently that didn't matter, because her fingers dropped to the globe that had been so achingly close, huge and brass and just begging to be touched by curious hands, and she turned it slowly, traced the indents and carvings as she looked about the cabin. A peculiar looking map caught her eye, and then a painting of one of the strangest creatures she'd ever seen in her life, and then on a book which lay open atop a detailed map of what looked like a ship blueprint. Holding her breath, she glanced at the still firmly shut door. Surely, she could _look_...

She all but skipped the few steps to the nearest table, and her touch brushed tentatively over a compass that was rested squarely in the centre of a chart. She studied it carefully, taking in every line and detail before her attention was drawn to another object or possession of the captain. She gazed up at a positively enormous painting of the same creature she'd sometimes seen tattooed on the arm of a sailor. It was definitely not a frightening sight, but it was an odd one. It appeared to be a perfectly ordinary woman, her long, inky black hair, soaking wet and waving just slightly, hanging over her bare chest, with wide, melancholy eyes so brown they were nearly black, and pink lips, plump and full and shaped like petals. And then the skin at her waist seemed to fade to pearly white and vibrant orange scales, and instead of two legs, she had a tail like a fish, long and dangling idly in the calm ocean seas beneath her rocky perch. Elsa took a step closer, peering at it, tilting her head.

"Have you ever seen a mermaid before?" asked the captain's low rumbling voice, and she turned so quickly she was almost afraid that her bun would come undone. She smoothed her already immaculate skirts, and turned pink, feeling foolish as she gave him shy look, an apologetic smile.

"No. No, I'm afraid I can't say that I have."

"That's not unexpected. They are supposed to be mythical, after all."

There was a little glimmer in his eyes, and a tug on the corner of his mouth, and she returned the tiny smile, before dropping her gaze to her hands. She took a breath as the silence settled in, and raised her head, looking about the room.

"I'm impressed by your collection. You must have been sailing for years to collect so many treasures. When we have less pressing matters... I'd love to see the purpose of some of them."

"I look forward to it, your Majesty." He said as he pulled out a chair at the mahogany desk for her. Elsa lingered at the painting, taking in the amazing detail of the pretty mermaid before tearing her attention from it, and taking the seat he offered her.

He settled in the chair opposite hers, after a moment's lingering glance at a map, and he folded his hands on the desk, interlacing his fingers. He was watching her with something like impassiveness in his eyes, and it didn't seem to match the serenity on his face. Perhaps she was being too wary of the princes of the Southern Isles, after what his youngest brother had done. And just like that, her thoughts were settled on Hans, not for the first time since receiving the letter. He'd been on her mind more than she liked to admit to, in the last few days, and he didn't seem to want to leave it any time soon. She was too curious about it, about his powers, about what the letter had told. His manacles apparently kept melting.

"What the King said in his letter... Are you certain your brother can't control himself?" Oh, that had been abrupt. That had been too abrupt and too rude and too forward a question to ask, especially at such a time. Elsa flushed. "I'm sorry, that was rude. I shouldn't have asked. I apologize."

Prince Anders' eyebrows raised just a bit, and he blinked, and she regretted asking the question, especially after he'd been kind enough to invite her to his quarters. Normally, she would never have asked something as intrusive as that, but, she supposed, these weren't normal circumstances, and the question had been nagging at the back of her mind since she'd decided to help.

"We're quite certain," he said, and he didn't look any less calm and serene than he always seemed to. There was a more business like air about him, but he didn't seem put off by the question. "My brother has never been one to willingly abandon control of that side of himself, even as an act. Most of us had forgotten he could still do it."

"If I may ask another... Intrusive question, when did he discover he had his abilities?" She was all but kicking herself for it, but she wanted to know how he had come to discover his powers, if he'd been born with them or cursed, how long it had taken him to get them under control. She wanted to know just about everything she could. Thankfully, Anders gave another of his gentle smiles, and his eyes, the colour of the stormy sea, softened, just a bit.

"Do you ask out of curiosity, or a hope to better understand him?" he asked, and she was grateful for the fact his voice was neither sharp nor interrogative.

Still, it didn't help the uncomfortably warm burn in her cheeks as her eyes flickered to her hands, carefully folded in her lap. "Curiosity," she admitted, glancing over at him from under her eyelashes, a sheepish half smile on her face. "But it might help me to know."

"It's not really my story to tell, you understand..."

He paused, then, propped his elbow on the table and considered her carefully as he rested his fist against his mouth. Elsa watched him as he watched her, holding her breath, and the quiet rush of waves against the hull of the ship did little to distract her. He looked like a prince, she decided as they studied one another. He looked every bit the man his title and rank suggested, and she liked it. It suited him. He took a deep breath, broad shoulders pushing back slightly when he did, and he seemed to have reached his decision. With a quiet sigh, he straightened up, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back in his chair. It gave the slightest creaks and groans and sounded startlingly like the timbers of the ship as he settled there.

"He was seven, when my brothers and I were first made aware," he began, his voice just the slightest bit hesitant. "But I imagine it was earlier, for him. He always was good at keeping secrets."

Elsa swallowed, and tried not to focus on the sympathy that welled up and constricted her throat. She had been a similar age when she'd begun to fear her powers. She wondered, briefly, if he'd delighted in his abilities, or if he'd feared them, too. Or perhaps he'd felt the same strange mixture as she had. "Did he confide in anyone? Tell anyone about his powers?"

"I... Believe our mother knew." He said, and there was a reluctance in his tone that gave her the feeling a sore memory had been touched upon. "And our father, as well, I wouldn't doubt. That was around the time he took to having private lessons with Hans. We never knew what those lessons were, growing up, but it seems obvious now."

He paused, his eyes on the table, eyebrows drawn slightly together. She recognized the look on his face. She'd seen it on Anna's, countless times before, when someone brought up her childhood, the time she'd spent hiding away in her rooms. It was a look of blame. Directed at who, she wasn't quite sure, but she wanted to dwell on it no more than she imagined he did.

"He announced his abilities in a... Memorable way, to say the least," he continued, and something in the clipped way he said that made her  hold her tongue as she began to ask what it had been. "But he reined himself in well enough. He never used them, at least to our knowledge, and he kept control remarkably well. Certainly enough to keep from affecting the weather."

"So what's changed?" she asked, her eyebrows pulling together. From what she understood, and what King Friedrich's letter had explained, the Southern Isles had yet to experience any more of their seasonal rain storms, a fact which became apparent once Hans had been returned there and imprisoned in the grand king's palace dungeons.

"I haven't the foggiest, I'm afraid. He's always had a handle on himself, and now..." he made a helpless gesture, and sighed once more, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. "Well, now he's in a cell. The guards tell me he often has trouble keeping the fire in. Apparently most of the damage he's done to the room hasn't been on purpose."

Elsa's expression became blank, her eyes glassy and unobserving, a flurry of memories flying into her head and replaying themselves over and over. The familiar view of her room, coated in ice and snow, cold and lonely. It wasn't a pleasant thing to recall. "I know the feeling." She said, her voice monotonous and murmured.

Anders looked to her, briefly, taking in the change in her expression, but he didn't comment. She shook her head the tiniest amount, and stood up, back straight, chin raised just slightly higher than it had to be, her fingertips resting on the desk, every bit of her queenly air regained. She offered a small smile, and there was something so entrancing about her smile that he almost forgot to stand up when she did.

"Thank you, Admiral, for your courtesy. I understand this must be difficult for you, and your trust means a great deal to me. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to retire to my cabin, to refresh myself and reflect a little on what I've just learned." She said in a manner of finality, and with a swish of rich silk, and another of her little smiles, she turned and strode to the door, surprisingly firm on her legs for someone who had never been to sea. Her fingers glanced over the edge of the door frame as she passed through it, and then she moved out of the Admiral's sight, and he sat down again, blinking after her as if to be sure he'd actually seen her in the first place.

  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ginger douche finally arrives awyea

It was only when Elsa had finally settled in her cabin that she was able to relax a bit. She had hoped her presentable dress would be fitting for the heat wave the Southern Isles was experiencing, but now she wasn't so sure. Even at sea, she could feel the change in temperature. They must be nearing their destination.

Currently, she sat at the mirror, watching her reflection, trying to ease the worry lines that didn't seem to want to go. It was only now dawning on her that she had no idea how to teach someone else to control themselves. She'd only recently learned, herself, and that was through a series of events she'd rather weren't repeated on a large scale with fire and lava instead of ice and snow. How different were his powers from hers? Were they harder to contain? Easier? She could only assume he'd have more of an idea of how to keep himself under control, if he'd been doing it for so long without problem. But if he knew how, why did he need help? Why was he suddenly not able to? Perhaps she'd been foolish to come...

She glanced up, and frost was inching its way up the mirror. She frowned at it, and shut her eyes, taking a deep, calming breath, and when she looked again, the frost was gone. She wondered if the same thing happened to him. If, when he got stressed or anxious, flames licked their way across the carpet. She wondered how long it had taken him to learn to be calm. She stood, and paced across the cabin, moving to the small window and peering out at the waves. They must be close. She wanted to walk somewhere, to ease the tension she was feeling between her shoulders, the tingling in her fingertips that wouldn't go away.

"It's alright," she said to herself, tucking a loose strand of hair back into place. "It's fine. It's going to be fine. You can handle this. Just... Don't tell him to control it. Don't make him conceal it. Let him show it. Let him breathe." She said slowly, quietly, hushed and to herself. She could manage that, surely. She'd had enough experience with being forced into a cage to know it did nothing to help.

And then an uncomfortable thought that had been nagging at the back of her mind became very suddenly prominent, pushing itself right into focus.

What if he didn't want to be helped?

It was quite possible that he was having a self destructive temper tantrum, and taking the whole country with him. Maybe he hadn't lost control, maybe he was aware of what he was doing, and making no effort to stop it. It seemed like something he would do. And even if he wasn't, would he accept her help? They weren't exactly on the best of terms. How would she help someone who didn't want to be helped?

A sharp knock made her jump, and a young, uncertain voice piped up from the other side of the thick door. "Pardon me, Majesty. Admiral's compliments, he wishes you to know we'll be landing shortly."

"Thank you." Elsa called in reply, and her voice sounded strained even to her. Oh, she hadn't thought this through. She shouldn't have come. She put her fingers to her temples, and squeezed her eyes shut, her lips pressing together in a firm line.

She reminded herself that she was the only one for the job, and she couldn't go running scared back to her own kingdom with her tail between her legs. She would be fine, it wasn't like she wasn't on equal ground with him. She remembered Anna, and her faith in her big sister, and she smiled. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her hands and opened her eyes. She waved the frost from the window, stepped out of the patch of ice that crunched underfoot, and picked up her travelling cloak. She traced the familiar shape of the Arendelle crest that served as the throat fastening, and gave a little nod as she pulled it on, the familiar, heavy weight of it acting as something of a comfort.

She could handle this.

 

**. . .**

 

When, at long last, the time finally came to step onto the dock, it felt almost as if the boards kept moving underfoot. She was grateful that Prince Anders was willing enough to be a constant source of support, and she found herself on his arm more often than she would have expected. He left his men to take care of the ship - The _Intrepid_ , she'd learned it was called - and escorted her to a waiting carriage. They both climbed into it, and, without much pause, they were off. Elsa had never spent a very long time in a carriage, before, and she found very quickly that she was thankful for that. It was, all in all, a quite unpleasant experience to be jolted about and bumped up and down, and to go flying off the seats at any moment, and she was more than relieved when the palace, positively massive and very imposing, came into view.

"People complain about sea-sickness but heavens above-" Anders cut off as they came to an uncomfortable, lurching stop, and he bumped his head against the door. "This is far worse." He finished, wincing and rubbing at his temple with a gloved hand.

She gave a quiet giggle, hidden behind her fingers, and wondered, briefly, how he could stand the heat with his uniform's many layers. She'd only been on land for an hour, at most, and already she was uncomfortably warm. She desperately wanted to free herself from the smothering embrace of her travelling cloak, but she endured, pressing her lips together to avoid smiling as the prince across from her ran his fingers through his hair, and huffed. A steward opened the door, and Anders was quick to escape the confining space. She took his hand as she stepped down onto swept courtyard stone, and when she looked, she found herself standing directly before the palace gates.

"Welcome, officially, to the Southern Isles, Queen Elsa." Anders' voice said smoothly, and it was only then she realised her mouth was open. She promptly closed it, and wet her dry lips as the gates were hauled open with what looked like a great deal of effort.

A welcoming party comprised of the palace staff had turned out to meet them, it seemed. A dozen maids and a handful of footmen stood at attention in neat rows, while a rather tired looking butler officiated over them all. Elsa and Anders were greeted, their bags were taken with a great deal of efficiency, one very nice maid took Elsa's cloak with a smile and a curtsey, and they were quickly ushered inside the palace's massive doors. As her eyes adjusted to the sudden change in brightness, she was happy to discover that it was pleasantly cool inside, and she gave a gentle sigh of relief, and looked at her surroundings.

It all seemed very... Dark. Full of shadows. The entrance hall was massive, and echoing, and the marble floors, so shiny she could see her own face, echoed their footsteps quite magnificently through the cavernous hallway. On every wall, there were paintings and portraits, and she founds herself feeling a bit small. Still, she walked tall among the portraits of former rulers, refusing to feel intimidated, though she suddenly felt a bit bare. She smoothed her sash, and took a breath, and reminded herself for the hundredth time of her duties. The pair made their way through to a staircase that was impossibly large, and he gave her a tiny, sheepish smile before leading her up it.

"We're a bit early, I'm afraid. Friedrich will be in his study, still, I'm sure." He said in a hushed voice, presumably not wanting it to echo around the entire building.

"He won't mind the imposition?" She asked, slightly hesitant.

"No, I don't imagine so. He made quite certain I knew he wished to see you the moment you arrived, so he should be quite alright with it." He assured her, and she nodded, though she still felt a bit ill at ease.

They eventually came to a very imposing looking door in yet another incredibly large, very long hallway, and Elsa smoothed her skirts absentmindedly, straightened her sash, and took a breath as Anders knocked lightly before opening the door.

"Forgive the interruption, brother, but you did give your orders..." Trailed off Anders.

"No, no, it's- It's quite alright," the king said, sounding to be in a bit of a fluster, and Elsa glanced at the floor for a moment, until curiosity overtook her and she turned her attention to the room.

The study she found herself in was quite impressive, and very heavily decorated with gold and velvet, and yet more eerily life-like paintings. Behind the desk, in all his regal glory, sat King Friedrich, and, next to him was a young girl, perched on a plush velvet footstool with her back straight, and a pen and some paper in her lap. He was hastily tidying his desk, putting away papers and quills, and the girl beside him went a bit pink when Elsa met her gaze, and she blinked her wide brown eyes, her mouth dropping open. She jumped to her feet, hastily tidying her skirts and setting down her pen and paper before curtsying. Elsa smiled, and inclined her head, looking up again just in time to see the proud smile the king cast the girl.

He lifted a hand to tuck a lock of her dull blonde hair behind her ear in an affectionate sort of gesture, and she smiled up at him sheepishly as he did. "Run along now, darling."

She nodded, and collected her pen and paper before walking quickly across the carpet, glancing up at Elsa and blushing again on her way past. She smiled after her, and returned her attention to the slightly flustered looking king before her.

"Your daughter?" she asked politely, linking her fingers together as she folded her hands.

"My eldest." He said, rising from his chair, bowing his head as she did the same. "Thank you for answering our plea. It was very..." His mustache twitched just slightly as he searched for the word. "... kind of you to do so. I'm aware you have no love lost for my brother, and the Southern Isles is in your debt for coming to soon."

"I was told it was an urgent matter, and I couldn't, in good conscience, wait too long."

"You show a great deal of wisdom for one so young." He said, his eyebrows drawing together slightly as he looked her up and down. She plastered a pleasant smile on her face, and raised her chin.

"Did you expect anything else from a queen?" She replied simply, arching an eyebrow and looking him directly in the eye.

"No. No, forgive me, of course not. I only say because I was a young ruler, myself, and I understand the weight of a crown." He tugged on the cuff of his sleeve nervously, and she found herself smiling genuinely.

"Well, I can assure you, I'm carrying it easily enough." She said brightly, and he looked a tad uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, and smiled, a gentle, slightly hesitant smile.

"I am glad to hear it." He said, and she was almost surprised to hear the sincerity in his voice. He clapped his hands together, and smiled again, and she decided she liked him. At least a little bit. "You must be tired. I'll have someone show you to your rooms."

"Thank you," she said slowly, straightening her back a bit. "But, I'd like to see him, first. Prince Hans. I'd like to see who I've travelled such a long way to help."

The king's moustache gave another twitch, and she saw something like panic flicker across his face as he looked pointedly at Anders, before returning his attention to her.

"Queen Elsa, perhaps you would like to wait until you are properly settled. You have had a long journey, as you've said, so perhaps a rested body and mind would be preferable before you meet with him." He said delicately, his hands clasping together in a way similar to hers.

"I rested quite well on the _Intrepid_ , thank you. I've been eager to see what I'm working with."

Friedrich frowned, twitched his moustache, swallowed. He seemed very hesitant to allow such a simple request. She wondered how bad it must really be, if he didn't want her to be scared off. That was a somewhat valid concern, if she was going to be honest, but she was far from likely to run away. She'd come to do a job, and she would do it.

"I shall summon a body of guards." He said, finally, and she smiled, and waved a hand with a shake of her head.

"Oh, please don't. I'll be perfectly fine." Elsa's smile was the sweetest one she could manage, and she glanced over to Anders as a smirk crossed his lips. It was the closest thing to a grin she'd seen on his face, and she quite liked it. "Perhaps Prince Anders could accompany me, if you're concerned for my safety."

"It would be safer if you were joined by a company of guards," he persisted, looking like a nervous father as he all but wrung his hands. She might have felt sorry for him, if he didn't keep talking to her like she was incapable. "It would put my mind to ease, knowing he won't be able to hurt you."

"King Friedrich. He's tried to hurt me before, I'm sure I don't need to remind you. He didn't succeed then, and I'm certain he won't now."

A tense silence fell. He looked a bit like he'd been slapped in the face, and Elsa watched impassively despite the uncomfortable prickling feeling running down her spine and tingling at the base of her neck. She was new to this. Speaking to other royals, as equals, no less. Still, she stood her ground, awaiting his response with raised eyebrows. He could hardly forbid her from going. Beside her, Anders was giving his brother a look, one that was very pointed and involved a fair bit of eyebrows drawing together and lips pressing into a firm line.

"As you wish." He said, at long long last, and he gave a nod of his head, and a tight smile. He gave a small bow, and she inclined her head, a little bob. "You will forgive me if I don't accompany you; I have some matters to attend to."

"Of course. Thank you for your time, King Friedrich." She said graciously, and he gave her a genuine smile before leaving the room behind him.

She took a deep breath, shutting her eyes for a moment as the feeling left her. She congratulated herself for not backing down, or acting submissive. She took another breath, and when she opened her eyes again she remembered the prince still standing beside her, patient as ever. She cleared her throat, and turned, and he offered her his arm and a smile.

Elsa tried very hard to keep herself calm and together as Anders lead her through hallways and down staircases, and eventually out into the courtyard, bathed in the orange and red light of a colourful sunset. She tried to keep herself from wringing her sash as she was guided slowly down a very steep flight of very dark stairs, into a slightly damp prison. She succeeded, for the most part, in keeping herself free of anxiousness, but it was getting harder and harder to keep it that way.  She knew she could handle whatever the thirteenth prince could throw at her, but she was a bit worried she wouldn't be fast enough to protect herself if he decided to hurt her. She recalled the ice palace, and how her powers had protected her without her control, but she wondered how well ice would hold up against fire if she didn’t pay attention.

A quiet murmur of surprise made her look up, and at the end of the corridor there were two guards, staring at her, mouths hanging open, and the hurriedly bowed when she approached. She glanced at Anders, and he nodded to them both.

"You're dismissed," he said simply, and they cast each other a sidelong glance. "Return to your post in half an hour. We'd like a word with him."

After a few moments, a key was placed in Anders' hand, and the two shuffled off, talking quietly and looking over their shoulders every few seconds, until they were out of sight. She wondered how quickly word would spread that the queen of Arendelle was visiting the disgraced prince of the Southern Isles.

Anders fitted the key into the lock, and he gave her a searching look, the slightest bit of concern on his face.

"If I have to leave, I will. I'll be alright." She assured him, and he gave a slow nod, before turning the key.

He paused once more, and then, finally, wrenched the door open. It scraped across the stone floor, and he coughed as smoke drifted through the doorway and into the hall. He passed her his handkerchief, and she held it over her mouth and nose, glancing at him before stepping inside the cell. After a long moment, the door was closed behind her, and she resisted the urge to cough.

"Anders, I told you, I've told you countless times, I want to be left alone," came a rough voice she barely recognized from the figure standing at the window.

"I'm not Anders," she said, removing the handkerchief from her mouth with a slight wrinkle of her nose. She held her breath as he turned around, and she could see, plain as day, the confusion on his face, followed quickly by a look of contempt.

"Yes... I can see that. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He asked dryly, and, any other day, she would likely have had a sharply worded reply, spoken with just the right amount of venom, but she couldn't quite get the words out.

This couldn't be the same man her sister had been so eager to marry. He had been so... Clean cut. So neat and put together, so obviously intent on keeping his appearance presentable and tidy and sending off an air of princely charm. And now, his hair was shaggy and in desperate need of a cut, curling slightly about his pale face, and he had a beard. Quite a scruffy beard, at that, and she wasn't quite sure if it was the poor light or not, but he had dark shadows under his eyes that did nothing to help how tired his face was. She didn't remember him being so thin. He looked like he was just about ready to crawl into a corner and die.

Hans was looking at her expectantly, an eyebrow raised, a patronizing sort of look on his face as he awaited her reply. "Well? Are we here to tell me you feel no pity for me?"

Elsa made her face impassive, and she swallowed. "No. No, I feel pity. In fact, I feel more pity than I expected to," she admitted, and her voice was calm and clear in the ashy prison cell. "But pity for you isn't why I'm here."

He snorted, and gave a crooked grin as he rested his shoulders against the wall, and crossed his arms. So he had gone from princely to boorish. Perhaps it would be as difficult as she had worried it would be, then.

"So why _are_ you here, hm? To order my execution yourself? Oh, I can see Friedrich being eager to offer you that." He gave an amused grin, and she noted the melting manacle around his wrist. It looked to be white hot, and yet there was no burn on his skin. She didn't imagine heat was a bother to him.

"I'm here to help your people. I'm sure you know what you're doing to the weather." She said, resisting the urge to cross her own arms over her chest.

"I've been made aware, yes," he replied tersely, that crooked smile slowly leaving his lips. "Why help them?"

"Compassion."

"And is _compassion_ going to save the poor souls suffering in the heat?" he said that like it was the funniest thing he'd heard in years.

Her eyes flickered to his, and she took in the familiar look in them. She'd seen that look in the mirror. She'd seen that look in her own eyes hundreds and hundreds of times. For all his unfeeling act, it was there. It was small, and carefully hidden, but there. Desperation.

"It might."

He watched her for a moment, and then he shrugged, turning his eyes to the scorched stone underfoot. She watched as he scuffed his dirty boot against it.

"Try what you want, Ice Queen, just don't expect me to be helpful. They can burn, for all I care." Hans bit out, and she noticed the way he tucked his hands under his arms, like he was trying to hide them. She noted he wasn't wearing gloves, and wondered if he felt bare without them.

"You're not a very good actor," she said simply, calmly, her face impassive as she watched him.

"Your sister thought differently." He reminded her in a smug, airy voice, though there was no hint of a grin or smirk on his gaunt face. "And your entire kingdom, too."

She flushed indignantly, and drew herself up, her fingers gripping her skirt so she didn't do anything hasty. She had the strongest urge to freeze his head and see how long it took to thaw out.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you of how your visit to _my kingdom_ ended," she bit out, and she saw the way he flinched, like he'd been struck. He growled - actually growled - and sounded rough and sore in his raw throat, his fingers curling.

"Don't you dare." He warned, his hands balled into fists at his sides as he took a quick step forwards, and she stood her ground, watching him with cold eyes.

She leaned towards him, challenging, being a little bit stupid, if she was to be honest. She could feel the heat rolling off his skin in waves, and she was pleased she hadn't decided to wear her ice gown.

"Threatening a queen," she tutted, her eyes set steadily on his. “won't do you any favours."

"I wouldn't talk like that, if I were you." His eyes seemed to darken, and a cold shiver ran down her spine despite the heat in the room. "They probably told you I can't control it, sometimes."

"And I'm sure that's what you told them." She said in a cutting tone, taking a step closer and refusing to back down. His jaw tensed, and his knuckles went white as he balled his hands tighter.

The heat pouring off him seemed to get hotter, still, and the smell of smoke in the room seemed thicker than it had a moment ago. She fought the urge to cough, instead watching, slightly confused, as he swallowed hard, and backed up, ever so slightly, trapping his hands underneath his arms again.

"You shouldn't have come." He said in a warning tone, his voice like gravel as he backed up further.

She looked calmly up at Hans, an icy cold spreading in her eyes. "You shouldn't have hurt my sister."

He flinched again, hunching his shoulders a bit. "I'm warning you..." he trailed off, his fingers gripping the edges of his shirt tightly, apparently in an effort to keep himself grounded. She didn't move, impassive as ever.

"What happens, when you lose control? Is it your hands that let out your powers? That's what mine did," she said, conversational, light. She took a slow step forwards, peering at him as his lip curled, as if he was going to snarl at her like a beast. She wondered if he might. "Or does it not restrict itself to your hands?"

"You don't want to find out." His voice was clipped, strained.

"I think you'll find that I do." She said coolly, and he curled in on himself, pressing his hands hard against his ribs. She knew that body language, she knew how it began to hurt, after a while, gripping your own body so tightly. She wished she felt more compassion seeing him adopt the posture, if she was to be honest.

Elsa didn't move closer, but she didn't back off. She stood her ground, her feet planted firmly on the ashy floor, her shoulders squared and her hands relaxed at her sides, back poker straight, looking intently ahead. He gave a little growl, as if to frighten her, and he swallowed again, eyes dark as they darted to the floor. For all his height and intimidation, he looked positively small.

"Go." He said, barked, his voice slightly pained.

Elsa didn't bother to reply, instead choosing to tilt her head the slightest bit, waiting patiently. This was an all too familiar scene before her. She remembered when she was young, and she would try so hard to keep it contained, to keep all that raw power bottled up inside her. The end result was always quite explosive.

Hans let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a choke, and her memories were interrupted quite suddenly as the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Everything was still, but only for a moment. The heat radiating off the prince in the corner of the dark, burnt cell took on an orange-red hue, and he was almost vibrating, still hunched in on himself. White-hot flames began to slowly trail their way up his arms, starting at his fingertips and working their way quickly upwards, until he was positively engulfed in it.

Any other day, Elsa would be quite afraid. But she had poked and prodded this out of him, had wanted to see the extent of his loss of control, and she had enough faith in herself and her powers to be sure her ice could protect her. As the fire grew larger, she flicked her own hand upwards, surrounding herself in impossibly thick ice as fire burst from that little corner. She could see orange flames all around her, warped and distorted to her in her safe, cold little room. It was melting her ice, and she built it up as needed, almost smiling; she'd guessed he would be no match for her, but it was satisfying to be right.

Leaving almost as suddenly as it appeared, the fire fizzled out, the deafening roar of it quieting until all she could hear was the heavy breath of the former prince. She lowered her walls, slowly. He was on his knees, his hands held in front of him, tense and fingers curled. She let him breathe for a moment. He seemed to be gasping quietly, a ragged sound in his throat.

"Well then." She said gently. "I might have more to do than I thought."

Hans didn't respond, bowing his head, his shaggy hair doing an excellent job of hiding his face. He looked at the floor instead of her, his shoulders rigid as he tried not to betray the full effects of that little outburst.

"I can help, I think." Elsa said. It would be difficult, certainly. Ice had no place with fire, and neither did fire have a place with ice, but she was sure she could help. "But you're going to have to cooperate."

"Help?" he said, sounding almost confused. He looked up at her, madness in his sunken eyes as he let out a strangled, hysterical laugh. " _Help?_ Oh, Ice Queen, you're out of your depth. You can't help. You can't fix me like a broken sword."

"You act as though you've gone mad." She observed, her voice pitying and quiet as she watched him. He let out another laugh, and it chilled her to her bones, a new sensation she wasn't eager to experience more of.

"Oh, I have," Hans said, with the coldest smile she'd ever seen on his lips. "But at least that's something I'm sure of."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter, this time. I'm kinda busy with school so the fic's mostly at the bottom of my priority list.

Hans' last comment echoed in Elsa's head as she left his cell. It bounced around her mind while she was returning to the palace, and it stayed when she was shown to her rooms by the sweet maid from earlier, the one who'd taken her cloak. Those words still stuck in her head, after the young woman left, and she grumbled unhappily as she took off her sash, placing it on the dress mannequin in the corner. She put her hands on her hips, and frowned, looking about herself as a distraction.

It appeared a good deal of effort had gone into housing her in as cold an environment as possible, as the air was pleasantly cool against her slightly flushed skin, and, glancing out of the window, she realized why. She was at the back of the palace, her rooms shaded (for the most part) from the sun's glaring heat. She sighed in relief, and took off her crown, placing it gently on the small cushion provided, neatly settled on the vanity table. The rooms, she found, were very much to her liking, as she looked about. The curtains and drapery were all calming shades of blue, most of the furniture either white or mahogany, and there was something in the room, itself. The atmosphere was somehow serene. She ran her fingers slowly down the bedpost as she inspected the four-poster, and turned to sit on it with a tired puff of breath. She was finally feeling her journey.

The quiet didn't last long, however. The moment she considered drawing a bath, there was a knock at her door, and a young woman poked her head in, gave a sheepish smile, and opened the door, bowing her head. Elsa got to her feet, tilting her own head slightly at the sight of her. She was dressed in travelling clothes, herself.

"Hello!" she said brightly. She had a thick accent that she couldn't place, but the woman was certainly friendly, for she skipped a few steps across the room, beaming. "I'm sorry for the intrusion, Lady Queen, but when I heard someone had come to help wee Hans... I had to come and meet you."  

"Well. Thank you." Elsa gave a hesitant smile, folding her hands against her silk skirt.

"My name's Margaret. Call me Maggie, it's easier." She added, grinning a happy, broad sort of grin. Elsa found it a little infectious, her own lips twitching into a more genuine smile.

"I didn't know he had a sister," she said, slightly curious, and desperate to avoid any long, awkward pauses. She wasn't fond of those. "I knew he had brothers, but..."

"Oh! Oh, no, I'm not his sister. Well, I am, sort of. Only by law." She said with a rowdy sort of laugh, her eyes darting to the floor. "I'm married to his brother, Tyrell."

Ah. That explained the accent.

"Did you just arrive, as well?" Elsa asked politely, and Maggie gave a nod, her mousy brown hair bobbing in its precariously perched bun.

"We did. We came from our little town, on one of the isles. Would've been here sooner, Tyrell was desperate to get going, but we had a little trouble with the townspeople. Concerns and whatnot." She said, and the queen nodded in understanding. She'd faced a bit of the same kind of trouble when it had been made public she would be leaving the kingdom for a while.

Maggie was rubbing at the back of her hand quickly, and she took an unsteady breath, biting at her lip. "I'm so sorry to ask, really, but... You _can_ help him, can't you?" She asked urgently, and Elsa sighed quietly.

She allowed herself to sit, and rubbed a hand at her temple, wanting to soothe the dull throb of a headache setting in. "I can certainly try. But, truthfully... I don't think he wants to be helped."

 

**. . .**

Hans had had rather enough of visitors. He'd gone almost an entire year without so much as a peep from anyone aside from Friedrich, so why, now, was it suddenly impossible to be left alone? He'd thought that was why he was in this cell, in the first place. To be alone. Isolated. He huffed an unhappy breath, and hunched his shoulders, wrapping his arms around himself as he settled on the charred bed. He must look a sight, but he didn't really care, anymore. He found it almost impossible to care at all, now.

Why had his brothers even bothered, sending for Queen Elsa, of all people? They had to know there was absolutely nothing good that could come from their involvement. For God's sake, she controlled ice and snow, the exact opposite of him. What could she possibly do to help? He wondered if she was even here to help, after all. He wondered if it wasn't just his brothers doing what they did best and making him feel guilty and ashamed all over again. He supposed to deserved that. He hadn't exactly made a good name for himself. He sighed, and wrapped his arms more closely about himself, his eyes turned pointedly downwards. He wished they would get it over with and have him executed.

The door to his cell suddenly scraped across the floor, and he groaned, not bothering to lift his head. He heard a hushed gasp, and a cough, and then a quiet, appalled "Dear God.", and he felt a sudden stab of sadness. Anyone but him.

He didn't look up as his brother walked closer, his boots crunching slightly in the ash and bits of charred wood that littered the floor, a cloth held over his nose and mouth. For the smoke, he assumed. He'd wondered if the smoke might be a bother, but his own lungs didn't seem to find it a problem. His throat certainly did, though.

"Oh, Hans..." Tyrell said quietly. "You are so lucky you're currently dangerous, because otherwise I would have given you a smack around the head by now."

Hans looked up, raising his eyebrows sharply in surprise. His brother stood there, tall and lanky, looking very displeased, and dressed in travelling clothes that seemed altogether too warm for the weather. He ran his hand through his brown hair, pushed it back and out of his face. He looked flushed. He wondered if he'd only just arrive. Hans met his eyes, and there was no pity in them. None that he could see, anyway. Well. That was nice.

"Sorry to let you down," he replied finally, with a bitter, barking kind of laugh. "Got tired of the act, I suppose. You know how that feels."

Hans saw the slight hurt flash across those blue eyes, but it was quickly gone, and Tyrell put in a distracted kind of demeanor, glancing at the floor and picking at the cuff of his coat. "Oh, yes. But I don't actually end up destroying things when I stop acting."

"I know people who would disagree." Hans retorted, pulling his legs up onto the bed and shifting to rest his back against the cold wall. It didn't seem to make much of a difference. He still felt too hot, all over.

"People are idiots. We're better than that, both of us." He replied, meeting his eyes again. There was still no pity to be seen. They were simply serious, and the slightest bit disappointed.

Hans was somewhat aware of the unfamiliar smile that was pulling at his lips. He'd missed his brother, he found. Somewhat surprising, but, then, Tyrell was one of the few who he could tolerate. Anders, of course, was among them, but that had always been more one-sided. He'd always sought to make him into a good boy, rather than try to be a brother to him. Tyrell had never tried to change him. He was thankful for that. He remembered when they were younger, and they would spend hours in the stables. It was so much quieter there, than in the palace. He remembered, then, to feel the manacle around his wrist, and he cast it a little scowl before looking away from his brother.

Tyrell raised an eyebrow, and put away his handkerchief, tilting his head and nodding at the manacle in question. "Kinky. I'm not interrupting, am I?"

Hans' lips gave a little twitch, and he almost laughed, but instead he let his head tilt back and rest on the wall, and sighed deeply as an awkward silence settled in. He wished he didn't have to see him like this. He wished he didn't have to see the extent of his loss of control. He wished he didn't have to see the damage he could do, when he wasn't even trying to do it.

Tyrell shifted, buried his hands in his pockets and leaned back slightly, rocking on his heels. "So. What have you been up to?"

"Rotting." Hans replied dryly, not bothering to look at him again. It would end in more guilt, certainly.

"As one does. I like the beard, by the way. Trim it and it might suit you." He said with a little grin, looking altogether too pleased with himself. As usual. "Boys usually like beards, after all."

"Tyrell."

"Well, I don't know what girls like!"

Hans gave a slight smile, despite himself. He really had missed Tyrell. He had always had a way of making him forget what was wrong, no matter how difficult it seemed. He could've used that, before. When he looked at him, again, there was so much softness on his face, and sadness in his eyes.

"Hans..." he said quietly, gentleness in his voice. "What happened?"

Anger flared up in him like a kindled flame, a hot kind of burning in his chest and throat that almost hurt. He gave an angry smile, fixed his gaze on him. To Tyrell's credit, he didn't shrink back or appear afraid of him. That may well change.

"I wanted my own kingdom. And I didn't care that I might have to kill a few people to get it. I wanted people to be proud of me, like they've never been." He said simply, no hints of shame in his voice.

"You never thought I was proud of you?"

Oh. Those words were quiet and soft, but they cut through the air and felt like a sword in his chest. The flame that had kindled went out with a little puff of cold air, and he didn't want Tyrell there, anymore. He hunched his shoulders, curled up and wrapped his arms around himself, like he was trying to hide. Maybe he was. He didn't really know, anymore. He didn't respond, and dropped his eyes, hoping Tyrell would tire of it and leave him be. But he didn't leave. He sighed deeply, instead, and gagged on the smoke, waving a hand in front of his face as if to clear the air.

"Someone needs to stop burning everything. And maybe take a bath. You're covered in soot, Hans, you look like you did the time you climbed the chimney in Father's study. Do you remember that?"

"You told me I was an idiot."

"You were an idiot."

Hans gave the smallest of laughs, and he felt horribly vulnerable as he looked at his big brother. He felt almost like he was about to be scolded, told off and sent to bed without supper. He'd been a bad little prince, after all. Tyrell smiled gently, his blue eyes as soft as ever.

"I'll leave you be, brother. But please try. I'd like to go riding, and you know I don't like to ride without you." He smiled, taking a few steps towards the door.

"Tyrell-" Hans said, before he could stop himself. He turned, raising his eyebrows expectantly as he waited for him to continue. "How's..." he swallowed, made a little growling noise in the back of his throat. Displays of sentiment were never enjoyable or comfortable for him, but he pressed on. "How's Sitron?

Tyrell gave another little smile.

"He's well enough. A bit... Depressed. And he misses you terribly. He tried to bite me when I gave him an apple, because I wasn't you. But well enough, other than that."

Hans gave a little nod, happy to hear his horse, at least, was faring better than he was. He had worried he would be treated poorly, until he was made aware that Tyrell had taken him. His brother always did treat his horses well.

"Thank you." Hans said, quietly, the words forced and dry, but there. His brother smiled, and nodded his head, knocking on the door and waiting for the guards to haul it open.

"What are brothers for?"

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow look what's actually being updated! Probably won't be updated weekly from here, but I AM working on it, so yeah! Enjoy, and thanks for sticking with me this long. <3

For the first few moments of the warm, fuzzy semi-awareness that accompanied waking up in the morning, Elsa thought she was still at home, in her own comfy bed, lying under her lovely silk blankets. She made a blissful noise as she stretched, cat-like, arching her back and hunching her shoulders, her toes curling against the soft sheets as she rubbed her eye with the heel of her hand. She gave a great sigh, and slumped back against the plush mattress, blinking her eyes open and squinting a bit at the sliver of light that fell across them. She looked around herself, pushing her hair out of her face and giving a gentle smile. She was in a new, different place, for the first time in... Ever.

There was a knock at the door, and she glanced over as two maids entered, smiling sheepishly as they curtseyed. One of them went to the curtains and drew them back, letting the sunlight puddle on the floor, and the other bade her good morning, and asked if she found the bed to her liking.

"The bed is perfect, thank you." Elsa said, fighting a yawn as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, shutting her eyes as the other maid moved to open the second set of curtains, the sun shining right over the bed, pleasantly warm.

With a muted grunt, she climbed out of bed, and went about her morning routine. She washed, sat still as the maids arranged her hair (A simple Arendelle style, she was happy to see) and reddened her lips. She had expected it to be different, somehow. It felt odd, to be in a brand new place and doing something exactly the same as she had done it at home. That is, until the maids were helping her dress.

A corset.

She knew what it was, immediately, but she'd never had to wear one. They weren't typically a part of Arendelle fashion, but, apparently, they were in the Southern Isles. Not wanting to be rude, or cause a fuss, she let them put it on her, holding onto the vanity table for support as they laced it. She immediately regretted the decision. She could barely breathe. But she didn't have time to think about that as she was helped into her soft blue dress.

The maids smiled sympathetically before they left her to her own devices, and the moment they were out of the room, she let out a huff of air and fell forwards, clutching the vanity table again. She took deep breaths, hoping it might help to loosen the horrific thing she was wearing, but apparently those two young ladies had the ability to lock a corset in place and make it impossible for anyone to escape it. With a sound of great discomfort, she pushed off the table, pressing her hands against the bodice of her dress and sighing. She could handle it. It was just a corset.

Composing herself, Elsa forced calm onto her face, and left her rooms, walking slowly as she grew more accustomed to the restriction. She had no idea how people managed to wear something so tight, every day, and appear so natural and content. Desperate for some fresh air, she padded quietly down the stairs, slipping out into the courtyard. She would have to find a maid or a butler at some point and ask about breakfast, but for now she was happy to have time to herself after the journey.

She tugged absently at a loose tendril of hair, dragging her fingers through it over and over again. It used to be a nervous habit of hers, but she didn't find herself quite so nervous anymore. Certainly, she still feared what may happen if she were to accidentally lose control of herself again, but she had become more attuned with herself, more understanding of how her powers were an extension of her emotions, that they reacted as she did to sudden changes. As long as she did her best to keep herself aware of her surroundings and feelings, she was certain she would be able to avoid any more accidents. She breathed out slowly, closing her eyes and letting the early morning sun warm her face.

She wasn't sure how long she stood there before she heard a little squeaked 'oh' and a few muted thuds from somewhere nearby, and she opened her eyes. There was a young maid looking very flustered as she dropped onto her knees in the dusty courtyard and hurriedly went about refilling her baskets with the apples she had apparently just dropped. Her green eyes flickered upwards, and she made a worried little noise before returning to her efforts. The queen gave a gentle smile, and lifted her skirts slightly, walking across the flagstones to where the young woman was muttering things to herself in an unfamiliar language.

She knelt and plucked a rosy red apple from the ground, giving it a shine on her skirt before offering it to the poor maid. She hesitated for a moment, looking uncertain, but her lips twitched into a nervous smile and she took it with a murmured thank you. Elsa helped her tidy the apples into the two baskets, and didn't consider stopping there, instead hefting one of them onto her hip.

"These are very heavy," she commented, giving the apples a little bounce. "How are you expected to carry two all by yourself?"

"I am stronger than I look. I carry the apples to the kitchen every morning." The maid replied, somewhat indignant, but her timid smile still in place. "You really don't need to, your Majesty, I can handle them myself-"

"I want to. Please, lead the way."

The maid paused, bit at the end of her thumb for a moment. Then she seemed to give in, brown curls bouncing under her headscarf as she gave a small nod.

Elsa followed the young lady through two courtyards and an absolutely maze of stairways and corridors and passages between buildings. It was a wonder food even made it to the tables warm with the distance they were travelling. Finally they entered into the back of the palace through a small door near the immaculately kept vegetable garden, and almost immediately Elsa found herself wrapped up in the pleasant warmth of a busy kitchen beginning to make breakfast. She could smell bread baking in the ovens, and hear something sizzling in a pan, and general chatter and gossip filled the air. She thought she heard her name, but before she could focus on it a rough voice cut through the sound like a cleaver, and both her and the maid jumped.

"Melinda! Heavens above, girl, you've lost your head if you think you can wait about in the doorway when those apples need peeling, dicing and boiling. You know how the princesses like-" the very large, very angry cook stopped talking very suddenly, watery blue eyes bugging a bit as he took in the sight of the visiting queen, a sheepish smile curving her pink lips and a basket of apples on her hip. She waved.

"Hello."

"Your Majesty!" gasped the cook, dropping into a bow so low his forehead almost touched the freshly shined floor. He mopped at his brow with a cloth, and straightened up after a few moments, wringing the cloth anxiously. "My apologies, was  your breakfast not satisfactory?"

"Oh! Oh, no, no, I haven't eaten yet-"

"Oh, Lord, have the maids not even bothered to bring you a meal?"

"No, but that's not why I'm here. I have no complaints. I wanted to help her. It seemed too much for her to carry two on her own." She said with a gesture to the young woman, Melinda, beside her.

"I'm sorry, Mr Humphrey. I was already running late, and the queen was- Well, she insisted." She said, hurriedly placing the first basket on one of the tables, and rushing back to relieve Elsa of the second one. She set it heavily next to the other basket, and straightened up, rubbing at the small of her back.

Mr Humphrey made an unhappy sound, and rubbed at the back of his neck. He forced a smile, and Elsa gladly returned it, linking her fingers together and glancing about the shining kitchen. The other maids and servants had all stopped to stare at the sight of Queen Elsa standing in the kitchen doorway, but with a short, barked order from Mr Humphrey, they scrambled back into action, hastily continuing on with their work.

The cook huffed, and looked sharply over to the young lady. "Well. Now you're here, you should make yourself useful." He turned back to Elsa, and cleared his throat. "Will you be needing anything, your Majesty?"

"If I might... I would like to stay here. If it wouldn't be a bother." She said slowly, her thumb rubbing at the palm of her hand insistently. The cook frowned, but gave a short nod, bustling to the oven to remove the bread before it burnt.

"Melinda, keep your wits about you. Find the queen a seat."

Elsa wanted to protest, but she imagined it might be easier to simply accept a seat. Melinda polished the flour off a wooden stool, and offered it without comment, darting to a table and beginning to prepare a tray. She had very quick little hands. It was almost entrancing to watch them work.

"Whose breakfast are you preparing?" she asked lightly, for no real reason outside of her own curiosity.

"Prince Hans'. He is given two meals a day, since now we are very busy with all these people in the palace,  he receives them in the morning and evening, rather than morning, noon and night." She explained in a faintly accented voice, her hands not slowing in the slightest as she spoke.

"It looks like you feed him quite well." Elsa commented, folding her hands in her lap.

"Oh, yes. He is a prisoner, but he is still our prince. King Friedrich made very clear that he was not to be given a poor man's meals." She paused, and chewed on her lip, glancing over at Elsa and lowering her voice as she continued. "But I don't think the prince is eating them. Trays do not come back empty."

"Well. We can't have that." Elsa murmured, a dent forming between her eyebrows. "Do you happen to know what Prince Hans' favourite meal is?"

"Oh, not me, but Mr Humphrey does. He has been cooking food for him since he was a baby. He knows very well what Prince Hans likes best, Lady Queen." She nodded, pausing as she looked to her. "Why do you ask?"

"I think we may need to encourage him to eat a bit better. Don't you?"

 

**. . .**

 

Twenty minutes later, Elsa found herself in the seemingly constant dampness of the dungeon corridors, with a tray of food balanced carefully in her hands. She had insisted on carrying it herself, much to the displeasure of the kitchen staff. She paid no attention, and gave the guards a pleasant smile good morning when they gaped at her. The were quick to haul open the door, and she passed through it with her head held high.

It was as smoky as it had been yesterday evening, and she squinted slightly, but turned her eyes to the bed, where the disgraced prince lay on his back, an arm behind his head, and his free hand resting idly on his chest. He turned hooded eyes towards her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"They have you working to earn your place here?" he asked scathingly, and she took no notice, striding across the room and setting the tray down on the table. She took a step back, and gestured towards the food.

"I've been told you won't eat more than you have to. So you will eat it all," she said firmly, a hand on her hip and her chin raised. "Or I will make you."

He quirked a brow. "Oh, will you?"

"Yes. Besides, I've made it difficult for you to refuse." She said proudly, and she pulled the cloth away from the food with a slight flourish, displaying the pastries Mr Humphrey was absolutely certain the prince wouldn't be able to turn down.

Hans was eyeing the food with a great deal of suspicion. His eyes fell then upon the shaving razor that lay neatly next to the cutlery, and he looked at her questioningly. "That doesn't look entirely edible."

"I want you to shave."

"You don't like the beard?"

"Even your sideburns were better than the beard. You are to shave, and you are to eat, and if you've done neither by the time I bring your supper, I will have the cook replace your meals with something less rich."

"Ooh. Awfully prickly of you. What's the matter, Ice Queen? Have you lost your cool in this heat?" He asked, crossing his ankles absentmindedly.

"If you must know... Your palace servants put me in a corset this morning. I'm finding it unpleasant." Elsa said, disgruntled, smoothing her hands against her bodice and remembering to breathe properly. It was hard in the thick smoke.

"I could easily loosen it for you." He purred with a lazy smirk, showing off white teeth when she rolled her eyes skyward, despite the blush that appeared in her already pink cheeks.

"Really." She muttered, turning without another word and leaving the cell.

 

**. . .**

 

Elsa was beginning to feel her own hunger when she received an invitation to dine with the king and queen. She didn't really want to eat breakfast with two people she didn't know, especially not a corset so tight she doubted she would be able to look relaxed and at ease, but denying them her company would be impolite, and do little to help her efforts to shake off the impression that she was as cold as her powers would suggest. So she put aside her personal feelings on the matter, put on a more presentable dress, and was soon escorted to King Friedrich's personal dining hall by a rather grumpy old butler whose coat tails flapped noisily with every one of his hurried steps.

She was ushered into the hall, and she put a warm smile on her face, her eyes meeting the king's as she entered the room. He returned her smile, and dipped his head in greeting. He looked as though he hadn't slept a wink last night, and she was slightly surprised to find she was worried by that.

"Good morning, dear sister." He said pleasantly, if a bit stiffly inserting the familiar moniker used between royalty.

Determined to be friendly, Elsa replied with a smile, “Good morning, my brother. Shall we be dining alone?"

As if on cue, the doors opened up behind her, and a regal woman with a stiff back and a very rich gown entered the room, followed closely by the young girl Elsa had seen yesterday. The king's eldest daughter, if she remembered correctly. She caught the child's eye, and gave her a gentle smile, causing her to blush and dart her brown eyes down to her little hands.

"Your majesty, may I present to you the Queen of the Southern Isles." Friedrich supplied. “My lady wife, Anastazja.” Elsa bowed her head to the older woman.

She looked the picture of a queen. Tall and stately, her deep brown hair piled up in a very elaborate bun with pearls and jewels strung through it. Her age was beginning to show on her face, in fine lines under her eyes and around her mouth. She looked beautiful, still, and Elsa almost wanted to look down at her own hands as the other queen turned brown eyes towards her. Her cherry red lips pulled up at the corners, minutely.

"A pleasure," she said in a voice like velvet, hinted with an accent that put an odd sort of emphasis on her vowels. "I hope your majesty found your rooms to be adequate and to your liking?"

"The pleasure is mine," Elsa said, resisting the urge to shrink back at the direct questions. She had never met another queen in person before. Not since her own coronation, anyway. "Oh, yes. They're lovely. I find blue a very calming colour."

"I am glad." Anastazja said, though it didn't sound terribly genuine. She seemed to remember the young princess, then, and glanced down at the girl, placing a slender hand on her back and pushing her forwards gently. "Our eldest daughter, Fredrikke."

Fredrikke dropped into a curtsey, her eyes on the floor and her straw-coloured hair hanging in her face, and Elsa was reminded very suddenly of Anna, in the mornings when she would come to breakfast with her hair undone, falling in her eyes and dragging over freckled shoulders. Biting back the sudden feeling of distance, Elsa bowed her head to the young girl, and gave a warm smile.

"We've met, briefly." She said, watching Fredrikke's already pink cheeks turn red under her faint freckles as she raised her head, hastily tucking her hair behind her ears.

"It was my honour, Lady Queen." She said in a slightly trembling voice, straightening her back and giving her best attempt at a strong smile, though it shook a bit.

After a time, they were all seated at the absolutely massive dining table, and all manner of food was being served on some of the most gorgeous china Elsa had ever seen. Despite the presence of new foods she had never tried before, she was drawn to familiar things, more because she was missing Anna than anything.

Elsa found herself with a plate of toast and butter and jam, and she glanced up to see Fredrikke watching her, before the young girl blushed and looked down at her own bread, carefully spreading butter and jam across it, pointedly not looking back up. The visiting queen's lips gave a little twitch, and she mimicked the girl, forgetting her manners and dining etiquette and eating her toast and jam with her fingers. The princess' mouth dropped open at the sight, and an excited smile quickly appeared on her face.

They started to play a little game.

Between polite breakfast conversation with the King and Queen of the Southern Isles, Elsa would break etiquette, and Fedrikke would stifle a smile into her napkin or hand. She was in the middle of mouthing "Off with his head" and waving a teaspoon threateningly at her boiled egg (much to the young princess' entertainment) when the king caught her eye, and raised an eyebrow questioningly. She pressed her lips together, fighting a smile, and slowly lowered her spoon with a harder than necessary smack to the top of the poor unsuspecting egg shell.

Their meal was very nearly finished when the doors burst open, and a scruffy cat scrambled in, chased by a toddler, chased by a nursery maid who looked about ready to cry. The toddler heaved the cat into her chubby little arms, upside down, and giggled loudly as the animal squirmed, fixing it's one eye on Elsa and giving her a despairing look.

"Hilda!" exclaimed Anastazja, and the nursery maid, wringing her apron in her dry hands, bit her lip and looked to the floor.

"Beg your pardon, Lady Queen. The princess is in a mood today. We were going to the gardens, but-"

"Admiral got away!" supplied the little princess, squeezing the cat and ignoring the unhappy yowling noise it made in response.

Fredrikke squirmed in her chair, just slightly, and chewed on her lip.

"Papa," she said quietly, leaning towards him so she could speak without raising her voice. "Might I take Caterina to the gardens before my lessons?"

"I thought you wanted to meet with our guest." Friedrich replied, brows furrowing.

"If I might interject... I would love to see your palace grounds, if the princess would be kind enough to guide me." Elsa said with a gentle smile, and there was a hush in the hall.

Not ten minutes later, she found herself being led by the two princesses (and the cat) down the grand staircases and halls and out into the private gardens. It was a bit of a marvel to her, still; Being outside and not having to worry. The sun shone brightly in the cloudless sky, and already it was a bit warmer than she was used to, but the gardens were truly beautiful, looking like a painting or a picture in a fairy tale.

The grass was impossibly green and healthy in the drought, looking soft enough to comfortably walk through without shoes or stockings, and the flowers were innumerable, colourful and bright, scattered in the grass, and growing in bushes and hedges around the distant walls and against the palace itself. Birds, bees, and butterflies were in no short supply, and she sighted a squirrel scampering across the handrail of the white bridge that curved beautifully over a quietly running stream.

Fredrikke let go of her sister's hand, and glanced up at Elsa as the toddler ran after a little butterfly. The young girl smiled shyly, and bit her lip as she held her hands behind her back, walking slowly with the queen.

"Papa is very fond of mother's gardens, but he won't say," she said, hushed as if it were a very great secret. "Don't tell him I said that, or he'll be embarrassed."

"My lips are sealed," Elsa promised in a gravely serious voice, smiling as the young girl beamed up at her. "Do you like them?"

"I do. Although, mother says the sun is not my friend. She says I'm better suited to the library," she confided, her lovely eyes trained on her shiny black shoes. "My sister, Odette, is the one she likes to be in the sun. She says it’s good for her health." She added, with a gesture towards another young girl, one that Elsa hadn't noticed when they entered the garden.

She was sitting under a tree, making a daisy chain, the flowers spread out on the grass around her, and piled in the lap of her white dress. She looked up with tired eyes when she heard her name, and her dreadfully pale cheeks went a bit pink.

"Rikke, you didn't tell me you were bringing people here!" she squeaked, and before she could get up, Elsa made her way over and sat down in the cool shade cast by the tree, right beside her. She looked uncertain, so Elsa smiled warmly.

"Hello. My name's Elsa."

"... Mine is Odette."

"A pleasure. What are you making?"

Soon enough, the four of them were making daisy chains and flower crowns in the shade, chatting happily and enjoying the cool breeze that drifted in from the sea. Elsa watched the youngest princess, Caterina, place her daisy chain around the cat's neck. He gave it a disgruntled look, but endured it admirably, and the queen's lips twitched upwards.

"Your cat is a very dashing animal," she said, eyes flickering down to the flowers in her hands. "Where on Earth did you find him?"

"At the docks!" Caterina said brightly, pointing vaguely at the horizon.

"She found him on the beach near the docks," Fredrikke said, more eloquently than her baby sister. "He was a ship’s cat, we think, but he was left behind. Caterina adored him, so uncle Anders promised to look after him for her until mother could be convinced to let Caterina keep him."

"That's why he's called Admiral." Odette chimed in, her weary blue eyes shining brightly as she smiled.

"He must feel quite proud to have a cat be his namesake."

"Oh, yes. Caterina even picks matching ribbons for them when uncle Anders isn’t at sea. Admiral wears them around his neck, and uncle Anders wears them to keep his hair off his face," Fredrikke smiled, putting a flower crown gently on Caterina's deep brown hair. "Today, she thought this one suited them both."

Elsa choked back a laugh at the knowledge that, at that moment, prince Anders, the pride of the Southern Isles Navy, was keeping his hair tied back with a flower patterned pink bow.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little update, but here it is!

Elsa's day passed in languorous summer fashion. The princesses were allowed to stay out in the gardens, and a simple lunch was brought out for them by a handful of servants. Maggie soon joined them, bringing with her a blanket and far more jokes than any one person should know, and so they made a picnic of it, spreading Maggie's blanket out over the cool grass, and the five of them enjoyed the sunshine and relatively cool day. By noon, Maggie, Odette and Caterina had gone to paddle their feet in the stream, leaving Fredrikke and Elsa to laze in the shade on the blanket with Admiral, nibbling at apple slices and the few remaining cucumber sandwiches.

"May I ask you a question?"

Elsa glanced up from her book at the quiet voice, and she gave a nod. "Of course."

Fredrikke hesitated for a moment, chewing on her lip, wringing a lock of her straw-coloured hair. She took a deep, shivering breath, and when her eyes flickered to Elsa's, there was concern and in them. "Do you think you'll be able to help uncle Hans?"

The queen's face softened. She had been wondering how long it might take for her to ask that question. It seemed to be at the very front of everyone's mind, and she didn't wish to disappoint anyone.

"If he's willing to be helped, I think I can make a difference," she said, watching the girl's eyes spark with hope. "What might... Encourage him is people visiting."

"Oh, I tried! Papa didn't want me going to see him, but I snuck down. Uncle Hans told me I shouldn't be near him, because it was dangerous," she said sadly. "I'd like to see him again when he's better. We used to sing, you know... Well. He would play for me, and I would sing."

"Play for you?" Elsa asked, her eyebrows drawing together. "What would he play?"

"He has a piano in his rooms, and there's a bigger one in the ballroom. He liked to play for me. He said it was like playing for an opera starlet." The princess smiled, a fond, sad little smile, and Elsa felt the most uncomfortable sensation of compassion for the prince in the prison. "I hope you can help him. I miss the music. The palace used to be so full of music when he was around."

"I'll do my best to bring back the music." Elsa assured her, leaning forwards to make sure she could see the sincerity in her eyes.

They were interrupted then, by a maid with Caterina and Odette in tow, an apologetic look on her face as she approached them. Fredrikke sighed, apparently knowing what came next.

"Apologies, but the king has requested you come in for your lessons, now, princess."

"Very well," she said wearily, getting to her feet and brushing off her skirts. She smiled at Elsa, and curtseyed, a twinkle in her eye that she didn't even attempt to hide. "Thank you, lady queen, for your conversation."

"The pleasure was mine." Elsa replied cheerfully, dipping her head as Admiral clambered across her lap to get to his princess.

The maid led the girls (and the cat) back inside, and Elsa found herself alone in the shade. She looked over to where Maggie sat on the grassy banks of the stream, and she picked up her shoes in one hand, and plucked an apple from the plate with the other. Lifting her skirts, she picked her way across the grass, enjoying the sun on her face, until she was comfortably settled beside the other woman.

"Well, hello again!" she said brightly, her thick accent distorting the words in a funny sort of way. "Miss me, did you?"

"Oh, dreadfully," Elsa said with a smile, taking off her stockings to dip her toes in the stream. She sighed as the cool water rushed over her skin, and she leaned back, resting her weight on her hand and shining her apple against her skirt. "You're a very charming person."

"Careful, lady queen. I've kissed people for less flattering words." Maggie warned, grinning at the look Elsa gave her.

"I don't know if you're serious..."

"And you likely never will."

A few moments passed that consisted of the two looking at each other, unblinking, only slightly smiling, before they dissolved into bubbling laughter, and Elsa didn't think she'd ever allowed herself to laugh so openly around anyone who wasn't Anna. She shook her head and sighed contentedly, taking a bite out of her crisp, shiny apple, and enjoying the breeze that came in from the sea. She could get used to this. Relaxing all day, eating picnics and lounging about in the grass. She could do without having to worry about dignitaries and politics and corsets. She might just run away and do nothing but laze in the sun for hours and hours, every single day.

"What do you do for fun in Arendelle?" Maggie asked out of the blue, causing Elsa to turn her attentions away from daydreams about running off into the sunset.

"What do you do for fun here? What we do in Arendelle probably isn't much different," she said, biting into her apple again. She chewed thoughtfully, before raising a hand, trailing snowflakes in the air. "Though, in Arendelle, my people are used to me making ice rinks in the middle of summer."

Maggie watched in awe as flakes of snow drifted from Elsa's fingers. They weren't able to last too long in the sunshine, but they were beautiful nonetheless, landing in her brown hair and dusting her silk skirts.

"It's beautiful, what you can do." She said sincerely, turning her deep blue eyes to her.

"Mm. I've... Begun to appreciate it more, lately." Elsa admitted, letting her hand drop down to rest on her bodice. She considered the half eaten apple left in her free hand. "Are there stables nearby?"

Maggie raised her eyebrows, her lips twitching slightly. "There are. Would you like to visit them? We'll likely find my husband there."

"I think I'd like to meet this husband."

"He's a sod." Maggie said airily as she stood up, offering her hand.

Elsa took her hand, and pulled herself to her feet, huffing slightly and stepping back into her shoes. She tucked her stockings into her sleeve discreetly, not feeling like putting them back on, and the other woman gave her an amused look but said nothing, linking her arm with Elsa's as the two set off for the stables.

Elsa knew that, really, she shouldn't be visiting the stables in anything more than her worst dress, made specifically for going to places that were less than impeccably clean, but she couldn't find it in herself to be bothered into going to the effort of changing her clothes just to meet a few horses. She quite liked the way this trip was giving her the ability to make decisions for herself, for once. To not have to be dictated entirely by rules and etiquette. Of course, she still had to behave a certain way in company, but alone, or with the princesses, or Maggie, she could do as she pleased, and that was such a welcome change.

By the time they reached the stables, however, Elsa was feeling the effects of her corset. The combination of actually exerting effort (no matter how minimal it was) and the growing heat was making it a bit hard to breathe, and there was a rushing in her head that she didn't like the feeling of. She ignored it, simply allowing herself to walk more slowly, lifting a hand and pressing her ice-coated fingers to her forehead. It helped somewhat. Maggie gave her a sympathetic look and rubbed a hand against her back comfortingly.

"Put you in a corset, did they? Poor dear. They're never fun."

"No, they're not," Elsa agreed, with the tiniest of breathless laughs. "Whoever invented corsets should be fined."

"Who's talking about corsets, and how can I contribute to the conversation?"

Elsa glanced up just in time to see the weary look Maggie shot the man who said that, and she fought the smile that wanted to appear on her face as she turned her head in the direction of the voice.

That was definitely one of Hans's brothers. Beautiful, tall and a bit gangly, but athletic, with laughing blue eyes and a sharply pointed nose that was exactly like the thirteenth prince's, if a bit smaller.  "I don't believe we've been introduced."

"Elsa, this is my husband, Tyrell." Maggie supplied, and he bowed deeply to Elsa, smoothing back his brown hair with long fingers when he straightened up. "Tyrell, this is queen Elsa, all the way from Arendelle."

"Of course, of course - I was pleased to hear you had so graciously agreed to come and help our kingdom. Have you met with my brothers, yet?" He asked, and he had a way of speaking that was cheerful and friendly, and she found it hard not to like him, already.

"I've only met three of your brothers," she admitted, and a look of mock offense appeared in his eyes. "There are just so many of you."

"There really are, it's a bit outrageous." He beamed, tucking his hands into his pockets. "You've met Hans, of course."

"Oh, yes. She's met Hans," Maggie said with a pointed look at her husband. "He made quite an impression in Arendelle, remember?"

"... Yes. My apologies. He isn't usually so... Treacherous, for lack of a better word." Tyrell sounded genuinely sorry, and Elsa was slightly surprised by it. She didn't know why she should be.

"That's good to hear. I am intending to help him, regardless, if he'll accept my help."

"Have you tried bribing him?" Tyrell supplied, resting his shoulder against a stall post.

Elsa frowned, tilting her head ever so slightly. Bribe him? What could she possibly bribe him with? The man had almost nothing, which seemed to be by design, for him. He didn't want to see his niece, or his brothers, and he likely hadn't touched the meal he'd been given that morning, probably out of pure spite.

"I'm... Sorry, but what is there to bribe him with?" she asked, and the man's lips curled into a smile that made her feel the slightest bit uneasy.

"He's quite fond of his horse."

Maggie shook her head, and placed a hand on Elsa's shoulder. "I don't like going near that horse. I'm going to stay here, with the sane animals. Find me when you want to go back to the palace." She said, and Tyrell gave a snort.

With that, Elsa found herself being led to the very end of the stables, her skirts lifted above her ankles to avoid the straw and dirt that littered the flagstone floor, which caught the attention of more than a few stable boys. Tyrell seemed to know his way about the stables with a sort of familiarity that she found a bit astonishing, for a high born prince. She imagined he'd done a lot of riding in his life.

"We've had to take the poor boy to the empty part of the stables. He spooks the other horses with all the worrying he does." Tyrell explained as he noticed her glancing at empty stall after empty stall. "He misses Hans as much as I do, I think."

Her eyes finally met the sight of Hans's horse, and her mouth almost fell open.

Gone was the finely groomed horse she had seen when he had visited Arendelle. In its place was a scruffy, dirty looking animal, his only half shed winter coat long and shaggy, in need of a good brushing, his forelock hanging in his eyes and the rest of his mane an overgrown mess of knots and tangles. He shifted uneasily in his stall, eyes wild and afraid, ears flicking backwards and forwards uncertainly. The poor beast looked as if he'd had an awful time.

"He won't let us near him, so we can't brush or wash him. We can barely feed him." Said the prince, running his fingers through his hair again. "He's quite upset over everything."

"And you think that he can be used as a bargaining chip, of sorts?" Elsa asked, watching Sitron prance and shy away from them, afraid and untrusting. "That Hans might cooperate if he knows his horse is here as a reward?"

"I think..." Tyrell replied slowly, his eyes flickering to the floor, then up to the ceiling as he let out a sigh. "That he needs to know we don't think he's a monster. That Sitron, at the very least, needs him. It might help."

"It might." Elsa agreed with a slow nod. She considered the apple in her hand, and glanced at him. "Can I go closer?"

"He might try to bite you. I would be careful." Tyrell warned, and she nodded, taking a few slow steps towards the animal.

"Hello," she cooed softly, in as quiet a voice as she could muster. Sitron's nostrils flared, and he shifted away, looking upset. "Aren't you a handsome boy."

The horse's nostrils flared again, and he seemed to notice something in the air that caught his interest. His ears flicked forwards, and he stretched his neck over the door, smelling the air tentatively. She wondered if smoke clung to her clothes from her visit to the prison that morning. Maybe he'd begun to associate that smell with his master. Whatever the reason, Sitron had calmed momentarily, and he looked at Elsa with curiosity behind the sadness in his eyes.

"I've got a treat for you," Elsa lifted the apple in the palm of her hand, and he considered it, dipping his head to play with the offering, lipping at it experimentally. He seemed to like what he found, because he took the apple happily, and she beamed at him, tentatively brushing the backs of her fingers against his soft, velvety nose. "There's a good boy... I think we should get Hans to come see you. Don't you?"

Sitron chose that moment to give a snort, and Elsa took it as a yes.

 

**. . .**

 

The guards were becoming used to her visits, it seemed. When she returned to the prison that night, Hans's dinner tray in hand, the oldest there chatted with her as the younger two searched for the apparently misplaced key. He was a gruff old fellow, but friendly and respectful, and he was one of the few people not related to the royal family who showed concern for his prince.

Once the guards had finally located the key, she was let into the cell once more, and she was pleased to find the window had been opened a crack. Only a crack, but it made a difference to the room. There wasn't nearly so much smoke. She would have commented on that fact, but she didn't wish to draw attention to it, in case Hans decided to shut it in protest.

He looked up when she arrived, but didn't say anything. She took it upon herself to do that.

"Good evening," she said pleasantly, setting the tray on the table. The tray from that morning was pushed off to the side, and while not everything had been eaten, it was very obvious that at least some things had been. Which was an improvement. "You haven't shaved." She pointed out, a smile beginning to tug at the corner of her mouth. "Why?"

"I don't feel like shaving." Hans replied dryly, and she shot him an unimpressed look.

"You will shave."

"I don't think so."

Elsa pursed her lips, and the two looked at each other. He was smirking as though he loved nothing more than to poke and prod her into getting angry, and she had the frostiest expression she could manage, which only seemed to make him happier. Impossible brat.

"You will shave," she said slowly, taking a few steps towards his bed, where he shifted slightly, as if waiting for her to attack him with a razor. "Because I won't even think of getting you out to the stables with your face looking like _that._ "

"Why should that be something I want?"

"Because your horse is in horrible condition. He won't allow anyone near enough to care for him. You may not care if you die in here, but Sitron will."

Hans's eyebrows pulled together, and he sat up slowly, looking up at her with suspicious green eyes. Looking at them so close, Elsa could understand how Anna had been so smitten with him from the moment he'd said hello. She shoved that thought away, and made herself as impassive as possible, an eyebrow arching up as she awaited his response.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked slowly, carefully.

"I want you to have to work to get something you want," she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest. "To leave this cell, you've got to shave, and you've got to let me help you control yourself. Which means talking to me."

"I won't shave, and I won't talk," he persisted firmly, and Elsa was about ready to freeze his nose, but then he hesitated, pressing his lips together in a hard line. A long moment passed, and Elsa held her breath as she waited for him to continue. "But... You can try and teach me to control it."

She considered that a small victory.

"Great. We'll start tomorrow morning before breakfast." Elsa said briskly. "Once you're in control enough to keep your outbursts in check, you can see Sitron."

"I'm looking forward to it." Hans said bitterly, and she threw him a grin that only made him glare harder.

Maybe this was going to be more fun than she thought.

 

**. . .**

 

While Elsa was hoping to be a polite and considerate guest, she felt the need to turn down the invitation to dine with the entire royal family that evening. She did so as politely as she possibly could, feigning a headache and hoping that would be enough. She simply didn't have the energy to expend on meeting and conversing politely with twelve princes, almost all of whom likely had wives, and children, who were all bound to ask how she intended to help Hans. No, she'd rather not deal with that just yet. In addition to that, a butler sought her out, and delivered a letter to her that had the familiar crest of Arendelle on the gold wax seal.

Queen Anastazja had seemed happy enough to excuse her from the dining hall that was no doubt going to be quite massively full very soon, and a small dinner was sent for with the queen's compliments and well wishes, and Elsa felt the slightest bit bad for scurrying off to her cool blue rooms like a spooked cat. Still, she had a letter to read, and she didn't want to delay reading it and writing back as soon as possible.

The moment she was in her rooms, the same maids from that morning arrived to help her out of her corset, and she found she was able to breathe again, which was quite nice. Once she was alone, comfortable, well-fed, and thankfully cool in a nightgown and airy robe, she sat herself down at the large oak desk beside her bed and broke the seal on the letter, opening it with greedy haste. Anna's messy writing greeted her, and she smiled at the sight of it.

_'Dear Elsa,_

_You left with the cute prince less than an hour ago, but I couldn't help it - I wanted to write this as soon as possible so you could read it as soon as possible._

_How was travelling on the ship? Did you get sick, or scared? What's it like in the Southern Isles? Is it as hot as the king said it was, or do you think they were blowing it up a bit to get you there? What are the princes like?_

_I hope you're comfortable and don't feel scared or anything; I know you've got the tools to handle anything. This is such a short letter, I'm sorry. I wanted to write more but I don't want to ask you too many questions, I mean, you're not even there yet and I'm asking you all about it! I'll leave it here-ish:_

_I love you. I wish you luck. Olaf, Kristoff, and Sven all wish you luck, as well, and we can't wait to hear from you._

_Lots of love,_

_Anna.'_

Elsa felt the sudden ache of distance, and she let out a slow sigh through her fond smile as she read the hurried letter over a second time, and a third. Only Anna would be so eager to hear from her that she would write a letter before she had even been gone a day. She cleared her throat, smoothed the slightly crumpled letter on the desk, and laid out two crisp pages of paper on the glossy wooden surface as she scooted her chair closer.

_'My dearest Anna,_

_I'm glad you sent the letter when you did; It made me smile when I saw it._

_Sea travel is more tiring than I expected, but the ship was surprisingly calming. Prince Anders has an incredible collection in his cabin, and we talked there for the first bit of the journey. I didn't get sick (thank goodness) but a new cabin boy did. I think he was quite embarrassed._

_They were definitely not exaggerating - it's extremely warm in the Southern Isles. Today was relatively cool, and I still found it too warm towards the evening. The palace maids also put me in a corset, which I don't think helped._

_I had the pleasure of meeting one of the princes, and his wife. They're equally charming, and are making me feel very welcome. I had the opportunity to meet the rest of them tonight, but I felt like it would be too exhausting to try and tackle that just yet. I am still settling in, and I know they would all be likely to ask about Hans.'_

There, she stopped, her pen poised to write the next words. Only she wasn't sure if she should write them. Would it upset Anna, to hear about him? Was that still a fresh wound for her sister, or was she just as curious about him as she was about the rest of it? Elsa chewed on her lip and twiddled her pen in her long fingers, considering for a long while. Ink blotted on the page, and she finally shook her head, deciding she might as well write about him. After all, she could really only give her inner thoughts to Anna.

_'I honestly don't know how to respond to the question of how to help him._

_Hans has earned quite the reputation, for a good reason. You should see the prison cell, Anna. Entirely burnt and charred, even the stone! He demonstrated his powers by mistake (which was, I confess, my fault) and I nearly felt... Pitying. He was completely swallowed by fire, and he sounded pained. He even warned me, and told me to leave before it happened. I am conflicted.I don't really know what I should think, or feel, but I know that I have to help him, however I can. I can see myself when he treats everything around him as something he might hurt, and I don't want anyone to live the way that I did for so long. Even him._

_Thank you for the love, and the luck. Give everyone a hug for me. Promise me you will take care of yourself, and don't worry yourself over anything. I am well, and being treated kindly, so please don't worry._

_With all my love,_

_Elsa.'_

  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so fond of the second part of this chapter, but I couldn't really leave it any longer, so here it is!

True to her word, Elsa was down in the palace dungeons before breakfast - well before breakfast, in fact. She had risen early that morning, almost as soon as the sun was up, and she found her most comfortable dresses and narrowed it down to the one she wouldn't be too upset over having burnt and soot-stained by the end of the morning session. She had snuck out in quite an impressive display of stealth, hoping to return before the maids came to ready her for the day, and she was quite certain that, as she made her way carefully down the prison staircase, she hadn't been seen by anyone during her mad dash across the courtyard.

She greeted the guards with a quiet good morning, and if they were surprised to see her, they didn't show it. She wiped her admittedly very sweaty palms on her soft green skirt, and they hauled the door open for her. As it closed behind her, she swore she heard one of them mutter something about readying a pail of water.

As the door closed behind her, she looked about, and noticed that, strangely, Hans wasn't lounging on the bed as she had expected. He was standing near the half open window, his hands behind his back, fingers twitching in an agitated, anxious manner that she had never seen anyone but herself do. Green eyes flickered away from the window, and he regarded her with an air of tense readiness. She wasn't sure how to feel about that.

"Good morning," she said, determined to be pleasant if she was soon to poke and prod at his defences. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Ice Queen."

Well then.

Elsa had spent a very long time planning the night before, considering what she might say and do, how best to go about this task before her, and how to treat him, but now a majority of that seemed to be unhelpful. Space had felt like a good idea, for obvious reasons, but now she wondered if being too far away wouldn't make him feel more alienated. She measured the distance between them, chewing on her lip, interlocking her fingers and twisting them, feeling a big bubble of anxious worry beginning to build in her chest, constricting her throat. Perhaps she should have spent more time thinking about how she would approach this. Hans appeared to be thinking something similar.

"Well?" he prompted, and she didn't miss the hint of uncertainty in his voice. The word was less of a jab, and more of a sharp but trembling question. He cleared his raw throat before continuing. "You wanted your chance to help. So try."

"I- I'm..." she tucked her hair behind her ear briefly as she realized the extent of her poor preparation. Quickly, she swallowed her anxieties down, and, lifting her chin and straightening her back, she tried to give the appearance of composure. "Show me the smallest flame you have in you."

Hans's eyebrows twitched upwards. The break in his mask was obvious, even as he quickly hid it behind something like confusion, and the set of his face made it look like he was trying to figure out what she was attempting to do. Pink tongue darted out to wet pale lips, and Elsa waited, impassive, as she saw the hesitation in his eyes.

"When you were a child, and you discovered what you could do, you played with the fire, didn't you?" she said, in a firm but encouraging tone. She remembered when she was a very young girl, before she had hurt Anna. Hours and hours she had spent in her room, of her own free will, making snowballs in her little cupped hands. She imagined it must have been similar, for him. "Do it again."

A strange look passed over his face, one that Elsa would almost dare to call vulnerability, and if she didn't know what he was capable of, and what he had proven in his brief visit to Arendelle, she might have felt a great deal of affection, or a longing to comfort him. The look was, however, soon gone, and his shoulders rose as he took a deep breath, the fingers of his right hand slowly uncurling as he brought it up, holding it in front of himself. He watched his own hand with the same fear and anticipation of someone watching a dangerous, poisonous creature. Elsa knew the feeling, and was once more struck with something terribly like compassion. She didn't like to feel it. Not for him.

His eyes met hers, then, and the flames plumed brightly to life in his palm, bursting into the open air with a little crackle, sparks flying up towards the ceiling and disappearing almost before she could see them. Hans stared at the fire, a sort of numb wonder and disbelief adding to the many mixing emotions already written on his scruffy face.

Elsa had seen his powers in action, and they had been frightening to behold, but this? This was very different. This was what people saw when they looked at her with ice frosting her fingers, what people saw when she spread snow clouds in the summer sky and coated the streets with crystal ice. It was wonderful and strange, when it didn't post a direct danger.

She took a slow step forwards, and the flames shivered and shook with the shift in the air, as if scared by her approach. She let out a slow breath, leaning in just slightly, just enough to see the white hot centre of that miraculous little flame. Magic was what it was. What she and Hans had, it was magic. She had never thought herself magical, but seeing someone else with something so similar, yet so different... It was a strange thing that cast a new light on her own abilities.

"Beautiful..." she murmured, and she glanced up in time to see the shocked confusion written in the prince's eyes. "Does it hurt?"

"No." He replied, almost too quickly, the response somehow a knee-jerk reaction, like mumbling 'ow' when you expected something to hurt, and it didn't. "No, it doesn't. It's like yours, isn't it? Yours doesn't hurt."

"It used to." Elsa admitted, quietly. She cleared her throat, and straightened up, forcing a pleasant smile onto her face. He was watching her, careful and questioning, before returning to the fire, his hand turning slowly, the flames licking their way between his fingers in a peculiarly serpentine manner.

The smile became less forced.

"Come, stand in the centre of the room." Elsa said, stepping away and gesturing to the middle of the floor. Hans - surprisingly - did as he was told, and she began to circle him slowly, keeping a good distance between them, lest he feel pressured. She wondered if she was making him nervous.

"You seem to be doing quite well. What if you were to try both hands?" she suggested coolly, her own hands folded on her skirt as she walked, slow and graceful, her footsteps echoing quietly in the little room.

Hans's left hand lifted, and when he opened it, the flames danced into view, mirroring the other hand. He was doing very well. Remarkably well, for someone supposedly out of control. She shoved the thought away, focused on helping him. If she began to suspect him of further treachery, she would never know if he actually needed her help or not, and if she wasn't sure, she would be of no use to the suffering kingdom. She instead mulled over the things that set her off, still. The things that made her forget herself and forget the hold she had on her own powers. If she was going to get him out of the prison cell, she would need him to be prepared for things that would startle, hurt, or shock him. He would need to be ready.

In an admittedly rather foolish bit of decision making, she raised her hand, and with a flick of her wrist, a patch of ice crystals shot up in the corner, a sharp, loud _'crack'_ splitting the still air. Hans jumped, and the fire spread, covering his hands entirely, as if to protect him, just as Elsa's did when she was in danger.

Only, Elsa's powers weren't quite as unpredictable as his.

The flames were licking their way slowly up his arms, and he was looking at it with the oddest mixture of despair, panic, and detestation. She wanted to calm him, to speak, but she had to see how he reacted to his own abilities leaving his control. His chest rose and fell at an increasing speed, and she watched as she closed his eyes, set his shoulders, raised his head a bit, and seemed to concentrate. The flames kept spreading, all but devouring his arms, climbing up and up and up until they were well above his elbows. When he opened his eyes again, he was in a rising panic, and Elsa was slowly retreating to the corner. This had seemed like such a good idea, at the time...

By the time the flames reached his shoulders, Hans was clearly struggling to keep them subdued at all, and Elsa was seconds away from calling for the guards and their water pails. But that wouldn't help. That would only make it worse, and she knew it would. She took a deep, shivering breath, and reminded herself that this was why she was here.

"Hans, breathe," she said, taking a small step towards him. "Breathe slowly."

He looked at her sharply, and it was like he wanted nothing more than to completely melt her into a puddle on the floor. His lip twitched like it wanted to curl up and bare his teeth, and the smoke furling around him didn't help the image of a dragon in human form, but she refused to flinch or shy away.

"Breathe," she said again, in as soothing a tone as she could. "You can control it. Return it to your hands, just like before."

For a moment, for a single, terrifying moment, she thought he might seize her around the neck and see what damage he could do before her powers defended her or she could scream for the guards. But then his shoulders dropped, and he squeezed his feral eyes shut. His trembling, claw-like fingers curled until his hands were fists, and the fire began to recede. It shrank slowly back down his arms as she watched, leaving behind ash on his skin, creeping down until finally it was centred in his palms. True, his hands were now entirely engulfed in pure white flame, but that was better than his arms being swallowed by it.

When his fingers uncurled, they shook with the effort of keeping the fire where it was, and before she could even open her mouth, he was turning away from her, and the fire was leaping from his palms and striking the opposite wall in an explosion of shivering sparks and licks of flame.

Hans seemed to sway for a moment as he let out a gasping breath of relief. For a moment, he stood, shoulders low, and then his head bowed. He sagged, and then sank to the floor, as if his energy had left him, and Elsa stepped forwards, moving slowly and hesitantly up behind him. She nearly wanted to touch his shoulder, to offer a bit of reassurance, but she couldn't bring herself to touch him. Even when he refused to look up at her from behind shaggy, unwashed hair, she couldn't muster the ability to comfort him.

"We'll try again later." She said finally. Softly. "Practice. Practice will help."

Upon receiving no response, she moved to the door, and it scraped across the floor a moment after she rapped her knuckles against it. Elsa looked over her shoulder at the shaking man in the centre of the room as she slipped through the door, and the last she saw of him, his head was sinking into his shaking, soot-stained hands.

 

**. . .**

 

Elsa returned to the courtyard as the sun was beginning to lower in the sky. She had been put into a corset again by the maids that morning, and found it no more pleasant than the day before. She had been leaning against the wall after the effort of giving her letter to the butler to post when a young woman on her way up the staircase had noticed her discomfort and very kindly suggested she take a walk in the courtyard before dinner. It had seemed like a good idea at the time (especially considering she was to meet _all_ of the princes that evening), but as she stepped out into the dying sunlight, she wondered if she hadn't made a bad decision. She wondered why she didn't simply tell the maids that she wasn't used to wearing such a thing, but she knew the answer. She was too shy. A queen, and she was too shy and anxious to tell them she didn't want to wear a corset. She sighed, and began taking slow steps along the pathway that led to the fountain in the centre of the courtyard, wincing as she moved in a manner the corset didn't approve of. She smoothed her hands over her soft silk bodice, letting the cold seep through her fingers, hoping to cool herself a bit.

She found her thoughts drifting towards Hans, and what he'd said, about loosening the corset for her. She felt her cheeks flush, and she shooed the thought away, sighing and coming to a halt with her hands on her hips, closing her eyes and bowing her head. That wasn't the first time she'd thought of him when she wasn't supposed to, and it was honestly quite troubling to her that he should hold such a place in her mind. She held no warm regard for him, and yet there he was, constantly, his words popping up at the slightest prompting. Whatever the reason for this, she didn't want it to become habit; as someone who wasn't very experienced with men, the last thing she wanted was to start with the one who had nearly killed both her and her sister, and no doubt Anna would feel the same... Elsa gave her head a firm shake.

Best to shove anymore of those thoughts away into some quiet and dusty corner of her mind.

A shout all of a sudden broke the still air, then, and Elsa jumped nearly out of her skin, turning sharply in the direction of the noise, feelings sparks of power prickling in her hands in case of danger, ready to protect herself from anything that may be a threat. But one look at the source of the noise made her quite certain she would be fine.

Two young men were scrambling after a white rabbit that seemed quite eager to escape them, and they were making a racket in the process, clattering across the flagstones on long, gangly legs. They were almost identical, from their curly blonde hair to their shiny black shoes, and it was comical the way they were floundering after the poor rabbit. So comical, in fact, she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up out of her chest, and the two of them came to a screeching halt, looking at her with the same expression on their faces.

"Hello!" called the one in front, waving energetically.

"Good evening," Elsa returned, smiling broadly as the other twin managed to scoop up the wriggling rabbit. "That looked exhausting."

"Oh, no. No, we're quite used to it. Very good exercise!" Said the one holding the animal, smoothing its fur soothingly. His eyes lifted to Elsa's face, and he paused, leaning over to speak into his brother's ear. A look of interest flickered across his face, and Elsa's eyebrows twitched upwards when he grinned.

"You're queen Elsa!"

"I am, yes."

"Oh, it is an honour!" Gushed the excited twin with the blue necktie, bowing deeply before approaching her, his brother in tow. "Allow us to introduce ourselves. I am prince Skyler."

"And I am prince Soren." Supplied the other twin, the one with the pink necktie, bowing as well as he could with the rabbit in his arms.

"A pleasure," the amused queen replied, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

Skyler chewed on his lower lip, barely fighting a smile. "So is it true? That you can make ice and snow?" he asked eagerly, tilting his head and tucking his hands into his pockets, hunching up his shoulders in an oddly sweet and childish manner.

"Ah- Yes. It is, yes." Elsa said with a slow nod. He was very... Forward, it seemed, but from the awe in his eyes, he didn't mean any harm by it. She smiled a tentative smile, folding her hands behind her carefully.

"So you did actually freeze Arendelle?"

"Good Lord. Skyler, where _have_ your manners gone?"

A new man was approaching them from across the courtyard, and Elsa assumed he was yet another prince, if he'd inherited the same wildly curly hair as the twins had (though in a deep, deep brown rather than their shiny gold). He had a handsome face, though she imagined a smile would brighten it immensely. For now, he was giving his brother a very stern look that put an edge into his cheerful brown eyes.

"I was only asking..." Skyler said defensively, fiddling with a button on his coat, worrying the thread so much she was a bit concerned it may break. "Wanted to know if it was true. You know how rumours get spread, Ingo."

"You were being rude." He said firmly, and the twin scuffed his shoe bashfully against the ground. Ingo turned his attention to Elsa, then, a look of deep embarrassment and apology on his face. "M'lady. Prince Ingo, at your service. Please accept my humblest apologies for the behaviour of my brother." He said, bowing to her.

"It's alright, really," Elsa assured him awkwardly, interlocking her fingers behind her back. "I don't mind. The stories are true. It was a very..." She took a breath, finding the words. "Difficult time, for me, personally. But I'm quite in control of myself. There's nothing to be worried about."

"Oh, I'm not worried, I want to see!" Skyler interjected, and Ingo shot him a look of exasperation.

The rabbit in Soren's arms chose that moment to start wriggling again, and it squirmed its way free, hitting the ground and bolting into the bushes with a squeak. The twins scrambled after the animal, and Elsa couldn't help herself as she burst out laughing, holding a hand over her mouth to try and stifle the wild giggles before they could get too loud. She found it too funny to see royalty in such an odd, undignified state, on their hands and knees in the dirt, half buried in the bushes.

By the time she had stopped giggling at the twins diving headfirst into the shrubbery, she was pink in the face and incredibly light-headed, no doubt thanks to her impossibly tight corset.

"Perhaps you would like to sit down," Ingo suggested with a kind smile, gesturing to the fountain. Elsa nodded, and he offered her his arm, which she took gratefully. "I don't think I've ever seen someone so entertained by the antics of my brothers."

"I think they're endearing." Elsa said simply, pressing a hand against her bodice and attempting to breathe deeply. "I hope they catch that rabbit."

"That poor rabbit is always escaping. Soren doesn't seem to appreciate that it may have its reasons for that."

Elsa smiled as she sat down on the fountain's edge, folding her hands in her lap. Looked at the man across from her, she wondered if the princes of the Southern Isles were all as attractive as the ones she had met so far. It seemed extremely unfair to have so many handsome young men in one family.

"They are your younger brothers, if I'm not mistaken?" she asked politely as she tried to shove that thought into the back of her mind before it had a chance to take hold, looking over to where they were still rooting around in the bushes for their runaway rabbit. Ingo gave a nod, brown curls bouncing slightly with the action.

"They are. Almost twenty-four, and they still can't act their age."

"I'm reminded of my sister," Elsa glanced up at him from under thick eyelashes and gave a rueful smile. "She turned nineteen last month, and she makes a mess of herself when she isn't seeing to her duties."

"Oh, I've heard of her. She did quite the number on my dear brother's face."

For a moment, Elsa wasn't sure if Ingo meant Anders, or Hans.

"Prince Anders was very kind about that incident," Elsa said, preferring not to bring up the youngest prince just yet. "I know Anna still feels embarrassed about it."

"Put her mind at ease. Anders doesn't hold grudges easily." He said with a warm smile.

"I haven't met many of the princes of the Southern Isles," she said after a pause, watching as the twins finally managed to haul their rabbit out of the bushes with a triumphant bit of shouting. "I have to say, the ones I have met have all been charming."

"Even Hans?"

"Well... He was quite charming when I first met him, in Arendelle."

"I hope someone has apologized to you for his actions in your kingdom."

"King Friedrich wrote to me soon after the thaw. He was extremely apologetic, and I'm guilty of not responding to that letter." She wondered if that was the reason he had been so hesitant to reach out to her for help with Hans, and felt a pang of regret. "I should tell him it wasn't out of dismissal."

"I'm sure that he would appreciate that gesture. Speaking of him, perhaps we should return to the palace, now. Dinner will be served soon, and my eldest brother has a distinct dislike of being kept waiting." Ingo said, getting gracefully to his feet in one fluid movement and holding out a hand to her, bowing as he did so. "If you would do me the honour."

Elsa bit her lip against the giggle as she stood, her fingers playing idly with the silk of her skirt. She took the arm he offered, hoping her cheeks weren't as pink as they felt, and they made their way to the castle with Skyler and Soren (and their rabbit) trailing behind.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Not a new chapter, I'm so sorry.

The friend I was writing this with has sort of... Walked out, I suppose is the best term. I might try and update again, but for now it just makes me sad to even look at this fic. I'm very sorry for the disappointment this might cause - I'll hopefully be able to continue it at some point.


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